Stuff
by InSilva
Summary: Stuff of a random nature. Thirty-first piece. "The Emperor's New Clothes".
1. What do you do?

So. There is a home for my throwaway stuff and maybe this should have ended up there too but something made me want to post it. And then I thought there may be other stuff in the future that tips over into the posting bracket. And so I started this thread.

This is experimental and probably pretentious. It's what I woke up with so I'm sharing. What you make of it, I have no idea. :)

**"What do you do?" **by InSilva

* * *

How things change.

The longest hour evaporates

Like a beginner's winning streak.

Walking back to despond

To find the thrill ride in its place.

There's shockful joy and not a little anger;

(Just because it doesn't show

Doesn't mean he doesn't know).

He's here: life quickens.

There'll be rarefied air

And invisible angles;

The (im)possible.

Cards fall.

Conversation resumes: _apology sought, forgiveness granted._

The stars fade away.

There is just him and him.

The universe is their playground.


	2. Downtime

Downtime by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine, however much I pout.

A/N: um…I want to say…short?

_

* * *

_

Birmingham

"You want to go to Alabama?"

A grin. "England."

He waited till Rusty had gone up for more drinks and called Basher.

"Do you know what time it is?" Basher grumbled.

"Yes. Sorry. What's in Birmingham?"

There was sleepy swearing and no real suggestions.

"Thanks, Bash." But Basher had already hung up.

*

Birmingham, as it turned out, was not the target.

"Cadbury World?" he read as they walked through the gates.

"Yeah." Rusty's smile was anticipation-laden.

He screwed his face up. Chocolate and Rusty…residue and noises…

"I could go on my own," Rusty offered.

"No." Definite. He could see the headlines now.

* * *

_Costa del Sol_

"And we ended up here how?"

A shrug. "It's a small diversion."

"What is?"

"This is."

An incomprehensible local newspaper.

_And this is…?_

"I told you. A small diversion."

The paper fell open at the photograph of the tiara arriving the next day.

"You want sapphires."

"They go with my eyes."

"Tonight-"

"-for a recce."

A glance round the hotel foyer thronged with tourists. "And in the meantime…"

A glance out at the sun terrace. "We can relax."

*

"Here."

Rusty squinted up through his sunglasses at the Danny-shaped shadow.

"Present?"

"Saw this and thought of you."

Rusty opened the carrier bag, pulled out the short-sleeved T and looked at the slogan.

"IF WE ARE WHAT WE EAT, THEN I'M FAST, CHEAP AND EASY."

He looked up at Danny.

"You picked something witty and memorable up for yourself, I hope."

Danny grinned.

_I got you, does that count?_

* * *

_Belize_

"And your point is?"

Rusty considered. There had been considerable consumption of alcohol and points got blurry after a while.

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

"No," Danny shook his head. "No, your point is that you don't even know."

Rusty nodded. He didn't.

Danny flung an arm around generally and there was a small shower of rum.

"This place," he said solemnly.

"The first time," Rusty agreed, the smile forming.

"The first time," Danny said and frowned.

_Wait. Did you say that?_

_Did I say what?_

"Never mind," Danny shook his head again as if determined not to lose the thread. "The first time."

"The first time," Rusty agreed again.

And both of them were soberly silent for a moment and there were memories and the almost-might-have-been and then Danny said, "Exactly" as if he had won the argument.

*

The following night there was entertainment a little way down from their beach-house.

"Fire-walking," Rusty said unnecessarily.

Danny watched a native wander across the pit to whoops and applause.

"You know, I just want to ask why."

There had been slightly less alcohol consumed this evening but the night had not reached puberty.

Rusty shrugged. "Why not?"

They joined the growing audience and ate hot tamales and drank warming rum.

"Anyway," Rusty began, "I do know."

"You _think _you know. There's a difference."

Rusty looked at him levelly. "I know."

"You _think_ you know."

Frowning and with a sigh. "Too many times for me not to know, Danny. Including this place the first time. I do know."

_You _think_ you know._

Now, Rusty could feel irritation licking at him. "If I don't know by now, Danny, when will I?"

"It's not just about the life and death, Rus," Danny said and Rusty finally saw.

"Oh…oh…"

"Exactly. And I'm going to show you."

Danny stood upright and impressively failed to sway. He strolled across to the fire pit and smiled, charm and confidence making the friends they usually did.

"Danny-!" Rusty's brain caught up with his eyes as Danny kicked his shoes off and he half-rose up.

A singular killer glance rooted him to the spot and then Danny walked steadily and carefully across the hot coals. Applause followed him back to Rusty. And Rusty's eyes told him that he was an idiot and also that Rusty knew.

* * *

_A beach possibly on the Pacific coast_

There was sun. There was sand. There was blue, blue ocean. There was freedom. There was no one who knew them.

They lay on their backs and stared at the sky and watched bright blue darken down to navy and fiery sunshine limbo under the horizon.

There were stars.

There was comfortable. There was eternal. There was the never having to say a thing.

There was them.

* * *

A/N: the slogan came from a circular email from back whenever. "Crying out to be stolen" I was told and I agreed.


	3. Meeting

Meeting by InSilva

Disclaimer: as if.

A/N: Here's to finding the people you are meant to find in life.

* * *

Skilful hands deal; clever hands that know where to pinpoint the cards they've hidden. They can trace and they can track and they can find. Disguise is all. Misleading, misdirecting, misinforming. Quicker than the eye can see. Faster than a speeding bullet. Light sleight employed.

Those around the table accept the polished surface. Raise and raise and raise and raise and call. And the game plan is coiled and cunning, spiralling out: little wins permitted until the pots grow large and larger still. And then, when all are committed, the trap is sprung.

Surprise and shock and still the losers do not mind losing. They do not notice how little the man has lost getting to this point. They do not realise how much he has won in one deal.

A couple more hands to lose gracefully and then, a glance at a watch and a grimace of regret. Cash concealed, he stands and leaves.

* * *

He doesn't know it but the casual glance in the mirror seals his fate.

He watches him, setting up the marks and stacking the deck. The beautiful man's hands are fast and his fingers, slick and quick and tricky. He doesn't mean to stay and stare as long as he does but he is hypnotised. The part of him that isn't marvelling at the genius displayed is studying the eyes that never stop their careless, careful scrutiny of the men being charmingly fleeced.

The cards fall; the play is made; the money taken.

He heads to the alley outside and waits. Because he finds a brilliant, instinctive conman a heady, sexy lure. Because he wants to unwrap the paper from this package and meet the man inside. Because he won't contemplate no for an answer.

* * *

"Profitable evening?" says a voice behind him as he steps into the alley.

He tenses and the distance away and the speed necessary are calculated in a flash. Still, the voice is not threatening and there is amusement and admiration and approval and he hesitates. He half-turns his head.

Leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, looking over at him with a smile that knows. Discerning eyes that are telling him they have seen him work and watched him deal and that they understand and appreciate the talent displayed.

"Buy you a drink?"

Still he hesitates because there is maybe just a little bit of a con going on. He can feel the waves of charisma washing over him and he is not a pushover. He can play hard to get as well as he plays poker.

But the smile just broadens and the eyes are full of deep, deep promise and the hesitation shrivels in the intense heat of intrigue. And after all, you always regret things you don't do far more than things you do.

"Alright."

* * *

They walk in companionable silence and they find another bar.

"Whisky and a-"

"-whisky."

They talk. They talk about nothing and they say everything. Words are part of their armoury along with the music and the dance. They bathe in each other's conversation, delighting in the light and shade of pitch and tone and meaning. They can be truly themselves.

* * *

Chairs are being put on tables. They are the only two customers remaining.

The money he has won is fresh in his pocket and the last thing on his mind. He has glimpsed the ability to scale Olympian heights within the man and he can't imagine letting this introduction to greatness slip away.

The other seems to sense the unspoken fear and allays it with a smile and a word.

"Coffee?"

* * *

The walk to the apartment is short and they spend the night together, in words and silence and smiles.

Neither of them can explain how they know. Or how they know they know. They just do. Because meeting each other is the last thing either of them has gone looking for and is everything they have always wanted to find.

By the time the sun rises, they are locked together tighter than either realises.

They have become _them_.


	4. Welcome

Welcome by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine, no way, no how.

A/N: a little welcome back piece for NothingToulouse.

* * *

Walking through the door, Danny nudged the foil cartons and the pizza boxes on the floor with his toe.

"Always imagined moving in with Isabel would curb your untidiness."

Rusty looked up at him from the couch where he was propped up, cover casually thrown over his legs.

"Why?" he asked after a moment or so and Danny shrugged.

"Woman's touch?"

Rusty grinned. "Yeah, because Tess has you so tamed."

"Thought you'd have seen me coming." Danny nodded at the front window with the blinds which didn't let anyone see in but which afforded a fine view of the drive. "Thought you'd be up and at it with a welcome committee."

"Again, I want to say 'why'?"

Danny shut the door behind him with a smile and walked over to stand in front of the couch.

"Where's Isabel?"

"Over in Europe. Spending a few weeks catching up with her father."

There was a softness in Rusty's voice and Danny heard not for the first time the happiness in him at the reunion engineered.

"Where's Tess?"

"Her Aunt Silvia's ill. She's headed up to Boston."

"You got something against the Red Sox? Or you just worried you'll wander into Cheers and they won't know your name?"

Danny chuckled. "I'm persona non grata. Her folks don't know details but they know I hover on the edge of legal and Aunt Silvia's a bit strait-laced. And don't say it runs in the family."

Rusty's lips tightened and Danny knew it was at the thought of Danny not being welcome somewhere.

"It's OK, Martin Luther. I don't much care for Aunt Silvia either. She gave us a trivet for a wedding present. Both times."

"So you're saying unimaginative or forgetful. Or was she making a point about you being too hot to handle?"

"Think she was hinting she'd like to come round for tea. She's got a long wait." Danny glanced at the television playing in the corner. "Movie time?"

"Yeah. Beers in the fridge. Potato chips in the cupboard."

Rusty showed no signs of moving.

"I'll make myself at home then."

_You do that._

Danny headed into the kitchen.

* * *

Later and Rusty still occupied the couch while Danny was installed in the easy chair. _'The Wizard of Oz' _was coming to an end.

"You know the thing that people forget about this movie is that Toto is toast."

Danny considered the statement and then swivelled his head in Rusty's direction.

Rusty was unrepentant. "What? You imagine Myra Gulch is going to give up on her little vendetta?"

"She didn't get killed by the tornado?"

"You think comeuppance works that neatly?"

There was a pause.

"Maybe they could dye the dog," Danny suggested.

"Yeah. That'd work." A beat. "Rather than the dog dying."

Danny ignored him and channel-hopped.

"What about _'Gremlins'_?"

"I find Spielberg's sentiment escapes in worrying ways."

"Santa getting stuck down the chimney?"

"Yeah. What kind of an image is that to leave kids with?" Rusty shook his head then a gleam appeared in his eye. "Of course, sentiment in the right places…"

It earned him a glare from Danny at the memory of Rusty walking in on unstoppable tears flowing and a movie twenty minutes from the end: there had been bemused silence one side of the couch and sobs the other; tissues had been wordlessly passed.

"We got _'Superman'_…or _'Goldfinger'_…" suggested Danny.

"That'll do nicely, Miss Moneypenny."

* * *

It was heading towards evening and Danny stretched.

"You want to go out and grab some food?"

"We could order in," Rusty shrugged.

Danny smiled. "How long have you been sitting on that couch anyway?"

There was the tiniest flicker in Rusty's eyes and Danny sat upright.

_Rus?_

Rusty grimaced in the face of the inevitable as Danny got to his feet and pulled the cover away to reveal the crutches and Rusty's left leg buried in plaster.

"Oh, you've seen _'Affair to Remember' _one too many times. How?" Danny asked staring at the plaster cast and his voice was steady.

"Little argument with a sidewalk."

Danny raised his gaze to Rusty's face.

"How?" he snapped and Rusty sighed.

"Left a car in an unorthodox fashion."

Rusty's eyes were telling him, asking him, begging him not to push it. The inner battle raged within Danny: the need to know and the desire to punish those responsible and then, Rusty…there was Rusty… He sighed and looked down at the couch, at the garbage that spoke of days of shuffling to the door or the kitchen or the downstairs toilet and back again.

"How long were you planning on staying there anyway?"

"Figured you had to sleep sometime."

"Isabel doesn't know." That much was obvious.

"Isabel doesn't _need_ to know."

"No. No, she doesn't," Danny agreed. He bent down and gently pulled Rusty upright. "Let's see about getting you freshened up."

They moved carefully up the stairs and as Danny ran the bath, Rusty rested on the edge.

"There's Pinot Grigio in the fridge," Rusty said suddenly. "And we can order Chinese. And _'Once Upon a Time in the West'_ is showing later."

Danny smiled at him. "You're welcome_._"


	5. Regret

Regret by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own.

* * *

Alison Daughtry. If we're talking regrets. Because running out on a hot date because I'm needed elsewhere like yesterday and why wasn't I there already… aw, hell…not that I was sorry I left…I was just sorry I left. Fajitas and guacamole and salsa and margaritas and Alison Daughtry… Man, she was as hot as the salsa… I had plans…_she_ had plans…to be honest, my plans were finding out what her plans were… And we never did hook up again.

Other than Alison…I don't think there's a thing.

Unless it's not discovering Cadbury's chocolate sooner. I mean that's a reason to settle in the UK alone. Mmm…

Yeah. Nothing to feel sorry about.

Decided early on life is what you make it. And for me, life's been amazing. Of course, I can thank fate or kismet or whoever was rolling the dice that day… Yeah, if I'm thinking about life, I have to think about Danny.

Meeting Danny. Working with Danny. Being with Danny.

Danny…

You know, I'm never going to be able to put Danny into words. Or Danny and me into words. Just impossible. Not going to try… It's not about the words anyway. It's about the feelings and the reality and the truth… The truth… The truth that's sharp as a razor blade and stunning as a sunset and never expected and all the more wonderful for existing… Huh. Sound like Danny. He's a bad influence. I keep telling him.

Ah, Danny… Yeah. _That's _a regret. Because I doubt he's going to let this lie. Fuck knows I wouldn't. I'd be raining down righteous anger like fireworks on the 4th of July.

Nothing I can do about Danny.

Fuck.

Fuck.

…

All things considered, there's been worse. There's been worse pain. Watching Danny beaten and broken and bloodied and bruised. Watching him trying to manage the pain. Watching him trying not to hurt so that I don't see it. And that is so pointless because I see everything. Every single thing. I see and I feel. Every single thing.

Not that it stops me from doing the exact same.

And I am just as successful.

Yeah, things could be worse. Danny could be here. Danny could be hurting. Danny could be gagged and bound. Danny could be sitting on this sand dune waiting…

Oh, don't get me wrong. Things are bad enough.

I'm smiling, by the way.

Ah, sunrise. They're waiting for sunrise. Well, that's decent of them. The sun also rises. Hemingway? Hemingway. Never did get on with Hemingway. Danny always preferred _"Gatsby"_ anyway. Not Redford's finest hour but…

Huh. Do they really imagine volume helps understanding? They don't even need words. Because it's all very clear. It was all very clear way back when and I knew where this was going even if they didn't.

The sun is beautiful this morning. It's pale and golden and everlasting and at the same time warm and rich and eternal… Somewhere, I'm watching this happen… Somewhere, I'm someplacesometime… Somewhere, there's a familiar voice telling me not to worry, that it's only a passing, that whatever, it's either going to be going to a better place or it's going to be over…

_It's _going to be over…

And actually, that's the biggest regret of-


	6. Drag

Drag by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, you think they'd let me do this to them if they were mine?

A/N: For anyone with a birthday.

* * *

"Rus!" Panting.

"Yeah." Similar.

"So this thing-"

"-_this_ thing?"

"Yeah, this thing, this being captured-"

"-being stripped naked-"

"-being beaten-"

"- escaping-"

"-yeah, the escaping and the being chased and the running-"

"-yeah, the running, speaking of which, keep up-"

"- anyway, this thing, is it me, Rus, or does it happen-"

"-thanks-"

"-welcome – does it happen a shade too often?"

"Give me your hand."

"Thanks."

"Welcome. You think we rob the wrong sort of people?"

"I think – the _train, _Rus?"

"Of course, the _train_, Danny."

"Huh. Right. Where was I?"

"Thinking. Allegedly, you're good at it."

"Right. So, I'm thinking maybe we should consider changing our target market."

"Who'd you want to rob? Nuns?"

"You have a point. Ready?"

"Always."

"Now!"

* * *

"You'd think there'd be more room in here," Rusty scowled as the train started to move.

Danny looked at him. "Why?"

Rusty considered. "True."

"You OK?" The beating had been concentrated on their bodies rather than their faces and he knew he was aching.

"Just dandy," Rusty assured him. "Remind me to do this every birthday."

Danny shushed him and they listened at the door of the toilet. No sounds of pursuit. Either they weren't being followed or those following were being very quiet about it. Danny cracked the door and they peered through the gap, Danny at the top, Rusty beneath him.

A porter went past pulling a luggage rail. Wordlessly, they reached out, Danny's fingers closing round two suit carriers with the initials "SR", Rusty lifting a sizeable holdall. They retreated back into the toilet.

"Samuel Reardon," Rusty said, reading the luggage label. He undid the zip on the holdall and rummaged.

Danny had undone one of the suit carriers to reveal a bright blue suit.

"So not my colour," he muttered, holding it up against himself. Not a bad fit. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

"Very Don Johnson," Rusty nodded. "Also, Steve McGarrett country." He tossed Danny a Hawaiian shirt and Danny groaned.

Danny pushed the second suit carrier at Rusty who unzipped it, his grin evaporating as he did so.

"This can't be right…"

* * *

There was a tailored black jacket. There was also a tailored wraparound skirt. The laugh from Danny was genuine and hearty and the first either of them had produced all day.

"Looks like Samuel also likes to be known as Samantha."

Rusty thrust the hanger at him and dug into the holdall. There were no more shirts. There was his and her underwear. There was a pink sleeveless top. There were a pair of high heels and a pair of brogues that would fit them. There were toiletries and a make-up bag. There was a shoulder length auburn wig. It seemed Samantha Reardon coexisted happily alongside Samuel.

Rusty glared at the holdall contents. He glared at the jacket and skirt. Most of all, he glared at Danny whose grin was wide and who didn't need to say a word.

"Oh, you…you…"

"Come on, Rus, just another part."

The glare grew impossibly fiercer. "You're enjoying this a little too much."

Danny shrugged. "I'd offer, but-"

"-oh, no, Cary Grant. It'd be _"I Was a Male War Bride"_."

"Exactly. Whereas you-"

"-you saying I'm less than manly again?"

"-not while I'm in punching range." Danny tilted his head. "I'm saying that you're a fantastic actor. If anyone can carry this disguise off, you can. You know all I'm thinking of is how we get off this train safely."

The speech was full of sincerity. Rusty didn't believe a word of it.

"You are a complete bastard," he told him.

Danny said nothing. He handed Rusty the wig.

"I _hate _you," Rusty said through clenched teeth. He sighed and delved again into the holdall without much hope. A beatific smile appeared on his face.

"What?" Danny wanted to know, a note of trepidation in his voice.

Black lace underwear was flung at him.

"I'm wearing the boxers," Rusty insisted.

"I could go commando."

Rusty's eyes told him that was not an option.

* * *

There was swearing and shaving in equal measures. Danny sat on the toilet seat, dressed in the garish, watching Rusty pull on Samantha's clothes, apply makeup, slide legs into black nylon – _"Hold-ups? Fuck…" ­_– his blond hair disappearing under the wig.

Danny let out a low whistle.

"Don't push it," Rusty warned and Danny grinned.

A loud thump on the door made them both jump.

_We been made?_

Rusty swept everything unused back into the holdall.

"Get down," he instructed.

_Get down?_

_Now!_

_Oh! Right._

* * *

The toilet door swung open. The conductor glimpsed a high heel, halfway up a wall, the black nylon covered leg extended across the room like an entrance barrier, skirt hitched up. On the floor, a dark-haired man was kneeling, his back to the door, his face buried in inner thigh.

"T-t-tickets, please?"

Blue eyes and full lips painted deep pink turned in his direction.

"We'll be out in a minute," came a husky whisper and then the door shut to in his face.

The conductor swallowed and ran a finger round his collar.

"No…er…no rush, ma'am," he called through the door.

There was no rush. No rush for anything. Except the need to find something to drink. And maybe have a sit down.

* * *

Danny stood up, the amusement alive in his face.

"You're becoming more fanciable by the second."

"You're heading towards the yearbook entry of 'Least Likely to Make it Through the Night'."

The train slowed.

"Our stop," Rusty declared. He glanced glumly at his reflection. "I feel like Kurt Russell."

"Sorry, don't have his number on me. Hey, that makes me Sly!"

Rusty bared his teeth. "Certainly does."

* * *

They made it out of the train and along the platform, Danny's hand lightly on Rusty's elbow. They passed two of their pursuers by the ticket gate, placed so that they could scan the crowd. Neither gave Danny or Rusty a second glance.

Rusty walked through the door to their apartment and immediately stripped off, leaving a little trail of feminine clothing all the way to the bathroom. As the shower ran, Danny idly picked up one of the wisps of black nylon and smiled slightly. He wandered into the bathroom and leaned against the wall.

"You need any help scrubbing your back, Samantha?"

A hand reached round the shower curtain and extended a middle finger.

"Oh, eloquent," Danny approved.

Rusty's head appeared.

"You do remember this is my birthday? Milkshake, burgers, chocolate, ice-cream, whisky…instead I get a beating, I have to streak to get away, I have to cross dress to escape detection and all you want to do is mock."

"You want to have your birthday over? You want me to turn back time?"

"Christopher Reeve managed it."

"OK, Lois." Conciliatory. "Suppose I get changed-"

"-you know you want to keep that look. Not to mention the black lace."

"-and go pick up some takeout?"

There was a pause.

"And ice-cream?"

"- Rocky Road, and some whisky and some videos and your birthday can start now. How does that sound?"

Rusty gave a hint of a shrug. "Sounds good." He stepped out of the shower and pulled a towel round himself. "Hershey bars?"

_Of course. _

"Several Hershey bars," Rusty specified and Danny smiled.

"You know I can never say no to you." He frowned. "Why can I never say no to you?"

_You never want to._

_That'd be the reason._

The smile was full and genuine and Danny nearly regretted what he was about to do. Nearly.

* * *

They'd eaten, they'd drunk and they continued to eat and drink, stretched out on the couch and splayed in the easy chair.

"I guess it's one birthday I'll remember," Rusty suggested.

"I guarantee it," Danny agreed and hit play on the remote control and waited.

"_Tootsie,"_ Rusty said levelly as the opening credits rolled.

"Yeah. Got _Hairspray_ to follow."

"I sense the mockery is going to continue."

"Just a little. You make a very attractive woman."

"You remember the bit where you were a bastard."

"Yeah…" Long and happy.

"You're still a bastard."

A Hershey bar landed beside him.

"You think you can buy forgiveness with chocolate?"

A second bar arrived.

"How am I doing?" Amused. Still so very amused.

Rusty flashed him a serene smile and unwrapped one of the bars. Danny's grin faltered. Thoughts flashed through him of other occasions when he'd extended teasing just a little bit past the point where he should have done.

"How am I doing?" Earnestly.

"I guess you'll find out," Rusty suggested, biting into the chocolate.

Rusty with revenge on his mind. Danny swallowed and tried not to let his imagination run riot. Unfortunately, his imagination refused to co-operate.


	7. Covert Operations

Covert Operations by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own, don't own. Just pulled a chair up to the poker table.

A/N: Well, looked down my recent fic and it was all pretty miserable. Thought I'd try for something lighter.

* * *

They had a plan. They always had a plan even when they didn't and just because there was the slight issue of the boxes they couldn't tick, that didn't mean that the plan wouldn't work. It just meant that the plan stayed a plan and didn't become a fully fledged job. Yet. They had a few plans like that, some idle speculations that had been born out of whisky and boredom; some more serious that hinged on minor details such as waiting for teleportation to be invented. One day they'd get round to ironing them all out.

With this plan, though, there was a greater need and a bigger motivation than the mere challenge of the challenge. There was Reuben. They'd stood – they'd _all_ stood – and looked down at the ashen-faced man in the bed and they'd sworn – they'd _all_ sworn - to do something about it. And when Danny had announced that the Billy Martin had been turned down, there'd been definite glee in some quarters, savage satisfaction in others and Danny had met Rusty's eyes and there had been silent agreement and they knew where they were headed. When Turk had asked whether they could kill Bank now, they'd smiled because in fact, they already had a structure and they'd already decided what came next. There'd been a separate line of preparation and research going on. Just in case.

And now they had so much in place. Apart from a week spent fruitlessly on how to steal the diamonds – and Rusty still argued there was a way until Danny had agreed there was a way, indeed there was a way, they just didn't need to find it at this time and could Rusty please get some rest – apart from that week, they had most things sewn up.

Basher had been tasked with the what to rig the dice, Rusty had tracked down the factory, Virgil had volunteered for the trip to Mexico. Debbie had been recruited and Saul was becoming Kensington. They had the trapdoor, the pit boss, the inside placement at Shuffle Royale and at the Bank Hotel itself. The only things that they'd come up against a brick wall with were the exit strategy and the security system.

"We need help," Danny had said eventually. "We're stuck."

"Stalled."

"Stuck," Danny said firmly and Rusty had sighed.

"He'll be working on something. He always is. He'll need an incentive to get on a plane."

Danny shrugged. "Money usually works."

And now they were waiting for Roman to arrive and trying to pass the time.

Danny wandered back to Reuben's from yet another scout round the Bank casino floor, memorising the layouts, the exits, the quick routes out. He'd passed a candy stand and stopped and picked up supplies because there was never enough chocolate: there was never going to be enough chocolate.

The door to Rusty's room was ajar and Danny pushed it open to see Rusty sitting cross-legged on his bed, engrossed in the laptop in front of him. Without looking up, he beckoned Danny in and Danny sat down in the easy chair opposite him.

Words of gentle admonishment about Rusty's work:rest:play ratio rose to Danny's lips and then died away as Rusty closed the laptop and Danny saw something he rarely saw: Rusty frowning. Frowning like he meant it. Danny's brain started working simultaneously on a hundred different scenarios. Debbie had been headhunted; the pit boss had been found out and arrested; the factory in Mexico had burned to the ground…

Then Rusty looked up at him and there was a shift in expression and Danny saw fleeting guilt as he realised what Danny had been thinking and there was still the frown but now it was more of a scowl and there was definitely, _definitely,_ a pout forming. Danny's brow cleared because...oh, this he had to check.

"So. Play poker online again?"

"Yeah."

"Win much?" he asked casually.

The pout was in full evidence and Danny knew he was right.

"Don't tell me you-"

"Some guy called Lone Gunman. Cleaned me out. Third time this week."

"Cleaned you-?"

"You heard." Rusty looked at him sharply. "You breathe a word-"

"Oh, I won't say a thing. Our little secret."

"It had better be. I have too much dirt on you and don't think I wouldn't use it."

*

Elsewhere, Livingston was disconnecting his computer equipment and monitors and looking smug. A little hack here, a little hack there and he'd been able to see everybody's hand. As for Mr Hershey...well, maybe he'd be fourth time lucky.

Livingston's eyes gleamed. He certainly hoped he'd try.


	8. Outtakes

Outtakes by InSilva

Disclaimer: Nothing to do with me.

A/N: Three little randomy things.

* * *

**Part one: a conversation from O11 that couldn't be in "a different perspective".**

"Hey, Bobby."

"Danny!" Warm and friendly and happy to hear from him. "Just a moment."

There was the sound of footsteps and a door closing and then Bobby was back with him.

"It's good to hear from you. It really is."

"Thanks." It was good to hear Bobby too. It was good making contact with the world again.

"When did you…?"

"Few days back."

"And you're OK?" Lots wrapped up in there. Four years' worth of concern and a question about the immediate too.

"I'm fine. We're fine," he expanded and he heard the happy exhalation of breath at the other end of the phone.

"Warned him not to do anything stupid."

Danny smiled. "Well, he appears to have listened. You must tell me your secret."

"So. Take it you're not phoning round everyone you know to say hello."

He heard the focus and the purpose that was part of what made Bobby Bobby.

"Putting something together. Could use another pair of hands."

"Technical? Munitions?" There was a pause. "You guys already know all the guys I'd know, surely."

"Not a specialist," Danny said. "Someone willing."

"Well, I'd have said Vance G but he's currently unavailable."

A pleasant euphemism and Danny wondered how many times in four years he'd been described that way.

"Is it dangerous?" Bobby asked and Danny's eyebrows rose because that wasn't a question he was expecting. Profitable or tricky but not dangerous. Well, he couldn't lie.

"It might be. We're working on lowering the risk."

"You two are running it?"

"Yes."

There was a longer pause and then Bobby said, "You'd do worse than a kid called Linus. Works the Chicago L trains. Blond. Dresses like a preppy. Light fingers, good touch and he can disappear with the best of them. And he's a stand-up guy."

Stand-up. Not going to fold easily. Not going to rat anyone out.

"Where would he be tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow being Wednesday? He'll be in Kempsey's Diner by Kimball Station, first thing. Works the line down to Library State-Van Buren. Rich pickings from stockbrokers and accountants."

"Thanks, Bobby. Appreciate it."

"You take care."

Danny hung up and glanced at Rusty, fully clothed and fast asleep with fried egg in places it shouldn't be. He scribbled a note and left it on the pillow then headed out the door. Chicago and Linus beckoned.

* * *

**Part two: a conversation that should have been in "a different perspective". **

**And it would have been if only the writer hadn't been _stupid_ enough to get rid of her O12 dvd about 2006 which meant she then had to buy the damn film again last year for completeness and to make sure she didn't miss anything and only about a year after she started "a different perspective" did she notice _this._ *growling at self*.**

**This would probably have gone into chapter three. Just after they get back to Bruce's flat.**

"Let me see," Danny said.

Rusty raised an amused eyebrow.

"You just can't wait to get me out of my clothes, can you?"

Nevertheless, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling his arm free for Danny's inspection. The tattoo had grown. Further down his arm now, licking the back of his hand. Dark lines marking golden skin, fresh to Danny's eyes and fresher than Danny might expect.

"Thought I told you not to do anything like this ever again," Danny said, his thumb running over the new markings.

Rusty looked at him and grinned.

"You think this time there was a beautiful woman involved, secrets and lies, running and hiding with you nowhere in sight? Twice in a lifetime?"

Danny's eyes held his and Rusty sighed.

"Maybe it's to remind me not to do anything stupid."

"Thought that was my job."

"Well, now you're back from sabbatical, you can take up your post again."

Four years apart. Four years of separation.

"That's motivation enough not to get caught," Danny agreed.

"You get a longer term and I could end up all Ray Bradbury," Rusty told him solemnly.

"You'd clash with your own shirts."

_Better make sure it never happens then._

"If only to keep the gods of aesthetics appeased."

* * *

**Part three: inspired by the author's comment at the end of the latest "Dominoes" chapter. A few ways in which the Benedict Job could have gone really, really wrong.**

"Ocean? Your parole's been turned down."

*

"You're not Bruiser…"

*

"These lines going to hold us?"

"One way to find ouuuuuuuu-"

*

Stepping through the vault doors.

"Yen? Yen?"

"Oh, dear God!"

*

"Have you _tried_ to lift one of these holdalls?"

* * *

A/N: Anyone got any more? :)


	9. Unapology

Unapology by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine, any of 'em.

* * *

The previous night had been about wine and room service and Ali McGraw and Ryan O'Neal and Danny's firm agreement that love meant never having to say you were sorry. Rusty had told him that was the sentimental talking at which point Danny had mentioned that _they_ didn't need to any more than they needed to thank each other and could he, Rusty, actually imagine of an instance, past or future? He, Danny, would be prepared to bet Rusty couldn't even think of an occasion.

Rusty had looked thoughtful.

"I bet I could get you to say it within 24 hours," he proposed but then Yen arrived unexpectedly and discussion had turned to ceiling tiles and the replacement of.

Today, they were on an initial walkthrough,

Yen was there to inspect the truth behind the photograph in the magazine supplement: the actual distance between the mummy's case and the jewelled ceremonial headdress.

Rusty was there to memorise the routes and the exits.

Danny was there to ponder the distractions necessary to get Yen into place.

Reuben had come along for the ride.

The four of them were wandering aimlessly with purpose through the museum. The rooms were occasionally startling.

"I'm looking at a display case," Reuben said slowly, "with a big fish and a sword in it. What the hell is that about?"

There was a succinct answer from Yen and Rusty laughed softly.

"Swordfish," he repeated for Danny and Reuben's benefit.

_You been giving him lessons?_

_Sounds more like one of yours._

They turned the corner into the Egyptology section. The headdress was in the centre of the room. In the corner was the sarcophagus. Up above was the skylight.

Yen and Reuben disappeared to different sides of the room; one looking at ledges and handholds, the other looking at enamelled scarab brooches. Danny and Rusty stood with the crowd in front of the headdress, each noting sensors and camera sweeps and blind spots.

"Pied Piper?" Danny suggested out the corner of his mouth.

"Yen doesn't do rats. We could-"

"-no Chihuahuas," Danny said firmly.

There was a pause.

"Multiball."

Rusty nodded. "I'll get the ballbearings."

Danny looked at the headdress and grinned.

_What?_

"After this, maybe we could go for Incan matrimonial headmasks for real."

There was complete stillness and silence and Danny turned his head in surprise. The amusement on his face drained away.

_Rus?_

Rusty looked at him, his face unreadable.

"It was a line-"

"-I know-"

"-it was playful-"

"-of course, it was-"

"-it was the single most ridiculous thing I could think of to come out with in front of those children-"

"-I appreciate-"

"-do you remember the other conversation we were having at the time?"

Danny stared at him in horrified realisation. Of course, he remembered. They'd been talking about four years and separation and argument and forgiveness and a whole heap of lonely pain. And in being glib about the glib, he'd inadvertently been glib about the other.

"Oh, God, Rus, I am so -"

"Crepes with cherry filling," Rusty interrupted, "chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Lots of whipped cream."

Danny blinked.

"You just lost the bet we didn't get round to making."

_You…you…_

Stunned disbelief vied with thoughts of revenge.

"What?" Innocent and smiling. "I don't have to say sorry, remember?"


	10. Audrey and Rex

Audrey and Rex by InSilva

Disclaimer: in no way mine.

* * *

He'd leapt up on the train and he'd turned around to reach down and grab Rusty's arm and haul him on board. As he did so, there was a silent whistling through the air and Rusty's eyes widened in surprise and shock and he fell forward and down on the platform and his hand slipped out of Danny's desperate grasp.

Danny scrabbled for him and then the bullet caught him in the shoulder and sent him sprawling to the back of the goods van. By the time he made it to the door again, there was a bridge and water rushing underneath and no Rusty anywhere in sight.

* * *

The bullet wound had healed and gone and disappeared and he'd gone back. There had been no sign of Rusty. No sign at all. He'd knelt down on the platform, on the exact spot and he'd imagined he could see the blood and his fingers had traced the outline of where Rusty's body had fallen.

There was nothing.

Danny had gone underground and asked and pleaded and begged.

There was nothing.

He'd looked at the records of hospitals and police stations and undertakers.

There was nothing.

* * *

Something had made him stay. Even months later, he'd stayed. Not like Courtenay could have got a good look at him. Not like he'd notice if Danny walked up and punched him. Well, he might have noticed that. As it was, Courtenay was notable by his absence. Out of the country. On the Riviera. Expected back soon.

Danny didn't know why he was still there. But he couldn't leave.

It was a Thursday when his life began again. A Thursday when he'd been sitting in a Mexican restaurant and the door had opened and there had been soft laughter and Rusty had walked in. Rusty. Alive. His hair, short and blond apart from the streak of grey at the temple. His eyes alight with amusement.

Danny'd half risen out of his seat, joy unbounded and then Henry Courtenay had followed Rusty in to the restaurant. Courtenay, tall, muscular, dark, intense. Smiling at Rusty like…like… Danny had sunk back down into his chair, his fingers tightening on the tablecloth in front of him.

They took a table in Danny's line of view. And he sat with uneaten food and untouched drink in front of him and watched the unwatchable, the unbearable, the unimaginable.

Rusty was staring at Courtenay like… There were soft words and looks up under his lashes and fun and half-grins and Danny felt his insides spasm. He studied Courtenay's face. Courtenay's teeth were showing. Courtenay's eyes were smiling. And Danny kept thinking of the big, bad wolf.

What the hell had happened? What the hell…?

Rusty stood up to excuse himself and Danny followed him to the bathroom. He stood at the urinal and waited till the other two men had gone and then as Rusty washed his hands, he crossed and stood behind Rusty and looked at Rusty's face in the mirror. Rusty's eyes met his. Unfriendly. Hostile in the extreme. No recognition in the slightest.

"You better not be thinking about doing what I think you're thinking about doing," Rusty murmured and Danny could see the weight shifting, could see without seeing his hands clench into fists.

"Rus…"

"Who?" Rusty span round to face him. "My name's Aubrey. Aubrey Stevenson."

Danny stared at him. Hard. Deep. Searching and searching…

_Rus…?_

There was nothing.

* * *

He'd left Rusty imagining that it was a case of mistaken identity and walked away from the bathroom and away from the restaurant and picked up a bottle of whisky and waited. He'd found Rusty. He'd found Rusty and he wasn't going to lose him again.

They'd fallen out of the door, Courtenay's arm round Rusty's shoulders, possessively, and it had taken all Danny's self-restraint not to run across the street and grab Rusty and start punching Courtenay till there was no reason to keep hitting him.

He trailed them back to Courtenay's house. Courtenay's mansion. He stood at the iron gates and looked up the drive, at lights downstairs that went out. At lights upstairs that went on. And then out. And Danny sank down on to the sidewalk and wept.

* * *

The truth had come out. He'd scoured the streets for informants and information about Aubrey Stevenson and people had spoken.

Aubrey had appeared from nowhere about four months ago. He'd been whisked away by Courtenay on a whistle-stop tour of Europe. Aubrey had been wined and dined and he'd come back, golden and gorgeous and glancing at Courtenay as if… Danny had swallowed hard when he'd heard.

Wild imaginings ran through his brain. Rusty had been injured, shot, head wound most likely. The streak of grey. And Courtenay had…what, exactly? Had stood over Rusty's body and looked down at unconscious beauty and thought to trap it? Pictures of Rusty recovering flashed through him. Rusty, operated on? Lying in bed, coming to, and Courtenay at his bedside.

Oh, how Courtenay must have smiled when Rusty hadn't recognised him. What glee there must have been in stringing along the man who had come to rob him. Danny gritted his teeth. Courtenay, playing the concerned friend…more than that, the anxious lover… And Rusty, not knowing, trusting what he was told…

Danny lived in misery.

He followed them as best he could, as surreptitiously as he was able. Their days seemed to centre around sports and food and sex. And he couldn't forgive Courtenay for making Rusty play tennis or eat sushi anymore than he could forgive him for fucking him. And to make Rusty think he liked all three…

Now, he was stood under a streetlight, watching them leave the theatre. Courtenay's hand was in the small of Rusty's back and he'd whispered something and he was smiling and Rusty was laughing and Rusty's face was open and happy and Courtenay's expression hid the predatory beneath and Danny wanted to scream.

He lit a cigarette to steady his shaking hands as they passed by on the opposite side and he couldn't think of a damn thing to do. The cigarette burned his fingers and he realised with a start that he'd been stood there for a while. He dropped the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under his heel and walked off to the nearest bar.

* * *

"Tell me."

Danny looked up from his malt and Saul was there. Looking ever so slightly like Morgan Freeman. Danny glanced down at the glass. Maybe he'd been hitting the whisky a little too recklessly.

"He's here," Danny said to Saul/Morgan. "He's here and he's alive and he doesn't know who he is and he doesn't know who I am and this _bastard_ is making him into someone he isn't and I haven't a clue what to do."

Saul/Morgan nodded sagely.

"Isn't this the point where you give me some pointers?"

Saul/Morgan shrugged. "Sometimes it's just about the listening."

* * *

It was the next day. Possibly. And Danny couldn't take it any longer. He'd followed them to the tennis club and he'd watched as Rusty easily beat Courtenay and somehow, he wasn't sure how, he'd ended up in the changing rooms. Rusty had emerged from the showers, towel wrapped round him and Courtenay nowhere in sight. Danny seized the moment.

He grabbed Rusty by the shoulders and his mouth sought Rusty's and the kiss had everything in it. Every last moment of memory and love and them. Everything he could offer. Everything he could ever give. Everything he-

* * *

With a start, he woke up, his throat dry and his heart racing. His hand flailed out to find Rusty at his side and the movement woke Rusty.

"Y'alright?" he muttered, squinting at Danny and then Danny's arms were round him and Danny was kissing him long and hard and there was anxiety and fear and Rusty didn't make a move.

Finally, finally, Danny's mouth left his and his eyes were demanding truths that he knew Rusty would never understand the reason for.

"Easy," Rusty said softly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

His breathing slowed and he swallowed.

"I…I…" he started to explain and then Rusty shut him up with a fierce kiss that went on until Danny thought the dream had almost been worth it.

Almost.

* * *

A/N: So. Inspired by a dream. Not my dream. My dreams are about shopping or making my son late for school by insisting on cooking him chips for breakfast. Not my husband's dream either. He dreams about Armageddon on a grand scale in one form or another.

If you are interested enough to find out the full details, please PM otherhawk. She can explain so much more eloquently than I.

(PS I don't ever feed my son chips for breakfast)(Just in case you wondered)(Or you work for social services).


	11. Crossover

Crossover by InSilva

Disclaimer: the usual I have nothing to do with Oceanworld combined with I do not own anything of a Doctor Who nature and a little hint of I did not create Chandler and Joey. Two separate pieces in case your mind is already boggling. :)

**A/N: Short and hopefully fun. And I am sure otherpeople can do Captain Jack far more justice but I crave indulgence.**

* * *

Jack stepped out of the Tardis into a bright Manhattan morning, stretched and then walked in the general direction the Doctor had taken. It was never _that_ hard to find him. If he waited long enough, there would usually be screaming of some description as a clue.

As it was, he almost missed him. Just a glimpse of light brown overcoat in a diner on the corner. Curious as ever, Jack wandered in and strolled towards the booth where the Doctor was sitting. The other occupant of the booth scored extremely highly on Jack's personal ratings system. Jack slid into the booth and took up residence alongside the Doctor with interest sparkling in his eyes and his charisma ratcheted up to full force.

"Well, hello, dark and handsome. How nice that we met."

If the Doctor was irritated by Jack's arrival, he didn't show it and that wasn't unusual. If the man was impressed by Jack's best efforts at flirtation, he didn't show it and that _was _unusual.

"This is Jack," the Doctor introduced. "You'll have to excuse him. He likes to say hello to everyone. Everything," he corrected.

"Hi, Jack," Dark and Handsome smiled and Jack's heart might actually have skipped a beat. "I'm Danny."

"Danny..." He lingered on the name and he smiled right back at the man with the looks and the eyes and the voice. The man who appeared not to be interested in the slightest.

"I'm just explaining to Danny that we need to borrow his expertise."

"And what is your expertise?" The question was lightly dappled with suggestion.

"I'm adept at separating people from their possessions." And there was a deep and sexy rhythm in that voice.

"You're a thief," Jack smiled. He could relate to that. What he was struggling with was the notion that Danny was able to sit and see with those gorgeous brown eyes and let everything wash over him. That almost never happened. Well, it might have happened once. But that was more about an interspecies cultural difference. And discussing the matter with the Ambassador over drinks had certainly been worth it. No such thing as diplomatic immunity.

"Danny and his partner are going to help us find the Marshino Jewel of Zenetrea."

"Partner?" Jack picked out the word he was most interested in.

"He's just getting a refill."

He. Partner. He. Partner. Huh.

Then Danny looked up at someone behind Jack and his face changed subtly. Little twitch of a lip, little sparkle in the eye and if Jack had thought Danny was at the top end of hot before, the mercury had just burst through the end of the thermometer.

A glass of cold and pink was placed down on the table and the newcomer sat down opposite Jack and Jack suddenly realised why Danny could exist so easily in the rarefied air of good looks, sex and flirt. Because he had to.

"Rusty Ryan." And the voice wasn't rich and smooth like Danny's. It was soft and understated in a way that the rest of the package really wasn't. And underneath... Jack's fingers itched to tear off the wrapping.

"Jack Harkness," Jack responded and there was definite interest in his voice just as there had been when he'd spoken to Danny because subtlety could go hang.

Blue eyes of amusement told him the interest had been registered. Politely acknowledged. And gently rebuffed.

"So. This maraschino jewel," Danny began.

"Marshino Jewel," came the correction.

"Is it red?" Rusty asked, sipping his drink.

"More kind of violet," the Doctor said absently and watching Rusty and the straw, Jack couldn't blame him. "Is that strawberry milkshake?" the Doctor asked suddenly and his face lit up. "I haven't had one of those in years. Decades in fact."

Happy innocence suited the Doctor. It was one of the things Jack truly loved about him. And he caught the amused but indulgent look on Danny's face and Jack thought he might have to redefine love. Or lust at least. And then he saw the smile dazzling its way delightedly out of Rusty and Jack found himself struggling to breathe.

"I'll get you one," Rusty promised. "You want me to get you one too, Jack?" And Jack's head had suddenly misheard and definitely misunderstood and he blinked at Rusty.

"Thanks," he said, recovering and letting his own grin creep up his face, letting his own eyes gleam. He could give as good as he got.

*

Later and there were quite a few espresso cups and several milkshake glasses in front of them. Angie, the waitress, had walked past a few times but hadn't dared clear them away because there was an involved four-way conversation that seemed full of half-sentences being batted across the table. She'd cleared down the table opposite and she'd taken a while to do that because the half-lines were fascinating and incomprehensible and quickfire and it was like some complicated tennis match where everyone was playing each other.

Yes, it was definitely that she didn't want to interrupt the conversation. And if her knees were slightly shaky and her mouth was a little dry, that was all to do with the faulty air conditioning. Angie sighed and wondered who she was trying to fool.

* * *

**A/N: And another piece of nonsense. **

Fierce dark eyes stared at unblinking blue. Those looking on were reminded of a scene from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly".

"The thing is," Chandler whispered, "Joey really doesn't share food."

Danny shrugged. "Can't say Rusty has ever got the hang of it."

They looked at the two men sitting opposite each other, a solitary piece of chocolate cheesecake between them.

"Do you want to grab a coffee?" Chandler asked.

"Think so," Danny nodded. "This could take some time."

*

Later and Danny looked up from the easy chair in Central Perk to see a satisfied Rusty walking through the door followed by a smiling Joey. Danny raised an eyebrow in question: not that he'd doubted the outcome, but when he'd left, it didn't look like Rusty was going to get his way quite that easily.

"You boys have fun?" Chandler asked.

"Rusty's been teaching me card games! Isn't that terrific?"

_You played poker for the cheesecake? You taught him how to play poker for the cheesecake?_

_I didn't need to teach him how to lose._

_I hope you're thoroughly ashamed of yourself._

_Why start now?_

A sigh, an unrepentant smile and two cups of coffee to go.


	12. Conversations

Conversations by InSilva

Disclaimer: own nothing. Not even the strength of will to resist nag.

* * *

**A/N: this first piece is inspired by meek-bookworm's latest review for "Relationship Matters". Specifically the slave trade line. :)**

"So."

"So."

"Here we are again. Anyone would think you enjoyed being captured and cuffed and sold on the black market."

"--"

"One of these days, I won't be here to buy you back."

"Right."

"I mean it. You'll go into that auction thinking good ol' Danny will save me and you'll find yourself in the hands of a large Texan who calls you boy and keeps dropping steak knives to make you pick them up."

"You think he'd be unwise enough to let me have a steak knife?"

"True. Make it a steak. Big and plump and juicy. That ought to keep you distracted."

"I could do with a steak."

"You look like you could do with a steak."

"I haven't eaten since..." _Da-nny..._

A sigh. "Here."

"You don't have a steak in the other pocket, do you?"

"No, I'm just pleased to see you."

__

And I am.

I know you are.

"So."

"So. I'm fine. Little rough handling. Nothing more."

"You wouldn't be lying to me?"

"Since when?" Indignant.

"Always a first time." A stare. "Alright then."

"Bobby rounding up the bad guys?"

"Yeah."

"You get any sleep last night?"

"--"

"That's what I thought. Come on."

"Bed."

"Room service."

"You're technically my slave, though, right?"

"--"

"That's what I thought. Come on."

"Bed?"

"You wish."

* * *

**A/N: second piece written just over a year ago. And I stole baking!Rusty from an otherperson.**

_I can't believe you just did that._

_Get over it._

_That was...I am lost for words._

_Makes a change._

_You're incorrigible, do you know that?_

_Not lost for long, then._

_You brought the cookies-_

_I made the cookies-_

_Exactly. You made the cookies as a gift-_

_A gift to be shared-_

_A gift for me and Tess._

_I don't hear Tess complaining._

"Tess doesn't count."

_Oh, so it's just_ your _little fit of-_

_You'd better believe it._

_Look, if there's a cookie sitting there-_

_- the last cookie -_

_- left on a plate, on its ownsome-_

_-it's manners to ask._

_You're saying I'm ill-mannered?_

_I'm talking about social convention._

_Which has bothered me since when precisely?_

_If you'd asked I'd have said yes._

_So, what's the problem?_

_The problem is you didn't ask_.

_If I ask now, will it make it better?_

_It might._

"Is it OK if I have the last cookie, please?"

_You're mocking me, aren't you?_

_Little bit._

_You come all this way to mock me. And to eat the last cookie._

_Are you going to say yes?_

_Maybe. _

_You want me to beg? _

_Maybe. _

_Get naked and beg? _

_That too._ "No!"

"It's just a little warm in here."

_You think you're funny. _

_I like it when you sulk. _

_I am not sulking. And wipe that smirk off your face. _

_All this over a cookie. _

_You just shouldn't make assumptions. _

_No, you_ shouldn't.

"What's with that emphasis?"

_Here. _

_Oh. _

_Yes, oh. You didn't think I'd bring another box? _

_Oh. _

_Yes, oh. _

"If the pair of you don't stop it right this minute, I swear I'm going to cancel the dinner reservation."

"Sorry, Tess."

"Sorry, Tess."

"I'll go and see if the taxi's here."

_You look disappointed. _

"Last time she threatened to take her clothes off."

"I told her that as far as you were concerned, that was a redundant threat."

_Oh. Want another cookie?_


	13. Toast

Toast by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own. Although have to think that they would come as a "Buy One, Get One Free" offer.

* * *

"Arabella Andrews," Danny suggested after a few moments' consideration.

"Arabella Andrews," Rusty repeated slowly, nodding.

The afternoon and they were sitting with drinks on a private terrace at the Standard. Basher was passing through and Danny was visiting and there had been general feeding and watering. The conversation had turned to close escapes.

Basher looked from one to the other, waiting for the explanation.

"Cleveland, late eighties," Rusty went on.

"Taking down a corporate guy," Danny contributed.

"We needed to tap someone on the inside."

"High up."

"Close to."

"We flipped for her," Danny pointed out.

"Did I win then?"

"What was she like?" Basher asked.

"Tall, brunette, efficient," Rusty said.

"You forgot scary."

"I could never forget scary."

"Took Rusty a week to find out what we needed to know. By then, she nearly had him down the aisle."

Basher laughed.

"OK, if we're talking near escapes," Rusty said, "what about Catherine Bonner?"

The smile dropped from Danny's face like a black seven on four hearts.

"Not even a job," Rusty elaborated. "Three dates and she was picking out a ring."

"If we're talking 'not even a job', then what about Lalla Douglas?" Danny retaliated.

"Lalla…" Rusty winced. "You know, I'd blanked that entire episode out."

"Lalla Douglas. Blonde, leggy, gorgeous. Daughter of a millionaire. All Rusty did was hold the door for her at the theatre and smile at her. That was all it took."

"Daughter of a millionaire, eh?" Basher sounded envious. "Why didn't that ever happen to me?"

"Believe me," Rusty said with feeling, "Lalla is the last thing you want to happen to you." He took a long sip of beer.

"Bit of a bunny boiler, was she?"

"You could say that," Danny agreed. "Or you could just say a nutcase."

"Fruitcake. A hundred percent."

"Rusty disappeared. Had me searching everywhere. In the end, I tracked him to this townhouse. Found him in a third floor bedroom, tied to a bed."

"Naked?"

"Naturally."

Hearty laughter ripped from Basher and Danny grinned. Rusty did not join in.

"It wasn't funny," he protested.

"Perhaps…ridiculous?" Danny suggested, apology and amusement fighting each other in his voice.

"Perhaps," he accepted. There had been nothing that funny about Lalla. She had been terrifying. "I'd still rather have taken my chances with Kathy Bates."

"What happened to her?" Basher asked.

"We didn't hang around to find out," Danny said. "Heard later that her father sent her somewhere out of the way."

"Please God it was Siberia," Rusty added.

Danny raised his beer. "To the women who saved us."

"To Tess, to Isabel."

"To Carla," Basher added sheepishly.

"Carla?" the other two said in unison.

Basher just grinned.

"To Carla," Danny smiled.

"Carla," Rusty echoing the smile.

* * *

"Who'd have thought Basher would be settling down?" Danny mused to the world in general and to Rusty in particular.

Rusty stood, early evening shower drops on his chest, towel round his waist and studied Danny, stretched out on the bed, resting on his elbows and reading "_Vanity Fair"._

"You do know that at some point your visits are going to coincide with Isabel being here, right?"

Danny looked up, interested. "You mean I'll have to stay in my own room?"

"I'll admit that it'll be a novelty. But I doubt we'd find any reason for you sharing the bed that Isabel would wear."

"I could think of one," Danny said immediately, rolling on to his side.

"I'm _sure _you could. Like I said, doubt Isabel would be impressed."

"Not _that._ I mean something plausible. I could," he said earnestly.

Rusty grinned. "You could too."

He dropped down beside Danny and nodded at the magazine. "You exploring your feminine side?"

"Limited choice of reading material. I am marking the hotel down on this point."

"I'll remind you that it's not your room."

"You say it like it matters."

"You have a point."

_It is-_

_-Isabel's. _A roll of the eyes. _Yes._

Danny looked at him and Rusty felt the change from levity to gravity in his manner.

"You are happy, Rus, aren't you?"

Dark eyes searching and needing to know that all was well because there was physical distance now: they could never lie but it was easier to hide the truth and to bury pain deep and out of sight.

Rusty reached out and squeezed his arm.

"As a sandboy," he said sincerely and he let Danny see the complete honesty.

_Good. Good._

"Sandboy?"

"Beachboy then."

"You sound like Brian Wilson."

"Only in the shower."

"Not even in the shower."

"When was the last time-"

"-oh, like you've improved."

Rusty's smile grew serious. "And you?"

Time for Danny to face the scrutiny and the weight of the many years' friendship.

"Yes," he said simply and the light in his eyes was everything Rusty wanted to see.

* * *

Dinner and discussion.

"You ever think about life married to Arabella-"

"-or Catherine-"

"-or Lalla?"

Rusty shuddered.

_Lalla._

"They would have been-"

"-oh, worse than that."

Rusty ran a finger around the top of his wine glass. "They wouldn't have understood," he said, not looking at Danny.

He didn't need to look up to see Danny's smile, warm and rich.

"Few do," Danny suggested.

Rusty raised the glass. "Here's to the few."

* * *

The middle of the night and Rusty was staring at the ceiling and he suddenly sensed the stillness alongside him that meant Danny was awake and he felt the question.

"Just thinking," he said and the elbow in his ribs told him how helpful that was.

He turned his head and in the nearly blackness, he could still see Danny. Oh, well, what the hell. It was Danny after all. He wasn't going to laugh.

"You ever wonder," Rusty began and his voice dropped to a whisper, "about whether there's a limit?"

"To what?"

Rusty tried again. "Do you ever think that this will stop one day? That we'll use up what we've got and that that will be it? No more…" he swallowed. "No more."

"You're feeling sentimental." Amused accusing.

Irritable. "It's the wee small hours and the company. Indulge me."

Danny pondered for a moment and then he shook his head firmly.

"Never gonna happen," he said with confidence.

_How do you know?_

The four words lay in the air between them and the warm, rich smile that Rusty didn't need to see in order to see was back on Danny's face.

"Rus…we're never gonna _let_ it happen. Even if we hadn't seen each other forever, it'd never stop us from being _us._"

Silence.

"You know it's true," Danny suggested, "and now you're looking for flaws in the argument. And you won't find one."

"You're unbearably smug when you're right."

"I'm-"

"-mostly-"

"-mostly," Danny conceded. "But I'm right about this."

"You are," Rusty agreed. "I can tell by the level of smugness."

* * *

Morning and breakfast and Danny looked up sharply as Rusty stole his toast.

"Some things never change."

"Tess never steals your food?"

"Isabel lets you?"

A beat.

"It's good to be married," Danny asserted.

"To the right woman."

Danny raised his espresso. "To finding partners."

_All partners, _his eyes added and Rusty picked up his latte in answer and smiled.


	14. Relative

Relative by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own any fictional character within. Just, like, borrowing.

* * *

Rusty's face was tight as they got out of the convertible and headed slowly up the drive past other cars towards the country house hotel. Danny looked at him sideways.

"You don't have to be here," he reminded him, hands in pockets.

"Bit late for that now," Rusty retorted shortly. He glanced at Danny. "Actually, you don't have to-"

"About ten years too late for that," Danny pointed out.

"Like I said, she's the one aunt who was nice to me," Rusty said. "Didn't see her often but when I did, she was nice."

"Good," Danny said as he had before. It was comforting to hear about one of the bright spots in Rusty's preDanny background: wasn't like Rusty had many of them.

Rusty's expression grew more pained. "Stayed over a few times. There was milk and cookies and lots of healthy eating."

Well, that might explain the pained, Danny supposed.

"Danny…" Rusty looked strangely hesitant and then glanced down at the small smartly wrapped present from Tiffany's and sighed. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Cheryl Feldheimer's 50th birthday party was in full swing in the hotel garden with about fifty people which had a pleasing symmetry. The birthday girl was plump and short and beaming, mingling happily, moving from group to group and when she spotted Rusty, she squealed and dived towards him.

"Robbie!"

Rusty wasn't even looking at him. Wasn't looking anywhere near him.

_Don't. Say. A. Word._

Arms flung themselves round him and Cheryl buried her head happily in Rusty's chest.

"Oh, Robbie, I am so glad you came! It's so great to see you again! It seems like forever since you were sitting at my kitchen table, swinging your legs and eating as many cookies as you could lay your hands on." She held on to Rusty and stared joyfully up at him.

"Aunt Cheryl," Rusty acknowledged.

"Please! Cheryl! You're all grown up now." Cheryl smiled happily at Danny. "You know, Robbie was _such_ a nice little boy. So well-mannered and I never had to worry about entertaining him and he and my son just hit it off straightaway… Robbie was _such _a pleasure to have around."

"He still is," Danny assured her, his face straight: he wasn't meeting Rusty's gaze either.

"Does he still like his food as much as he did?" Cheryl asked fondly and went on without waiting for an answer, "He always cleared his plate and Adrian, my late husband and I used to wonder where it all went. Mind you, my boy's the same. Hollow legs, the pair of them, Adrian used to say - I mean, look at him!"

She pushed herself back away from Rusty as if to better study him. "You look amazing, Robbie."

"Thanks, Cheryl. You too."

Cheryl giggled girlishly. "Well, I wish I'd got the metabolism gene." She looked at Danny again with interest. "And you are…?"

"I'm Danny Ocean. I'm a friend of Robbie's," Danny said and he still wasn't looking at Rusty. "He wanted me to meet his favourite aunt."

The girlish giggle was there again.

"Here, Cheryl." Rusty handed over the little gift and there was a squeal of excitement and a gasp of delight and paper was torn off and the silver bracelet was clasped to Cheryl's breast.

"Oh, I _love_ it, Robbie! It must have cost you an absolute fortune! Oh, you darling!"

She planted a kiss on his cheek and Danny saw Rusty resist the urge to reach up and clean off the red lipstick mark.

"I'm glad you like it, Cheryl."

Cheryl seemed to guess the polite excuses that were coming next.

"You have to stay for some food and drink," she insisted. "I've got an enormous buffet laid on over there and you've come all this way and I don't think you should go back on an empty stomach. Besides, I want to find out exactly what you've been up to because Christmas cards can never tell you enough."

Danny had a vision of a neatly written card cramped with text that he'd seen on more than one occasion at Rusty's. He doubted that the reciprocal card from Rusty had been in any way so detailed.

"Tell him, Danny. Tell him he needs to eat something at least."

Finally, finally, Rusty looked at him.

"Wouldn't want you passing out at the wheel," Danny said gravely. "I think Cheryl's right, Robbie."

_You are dead._

_

* * *

_"So these are all relatives of yours?" Danny asked as they stood in the food line.

Rusty finished wiping off the lipstick with a handkerchief and held up his cheek for inspection.

"All gone," Danny said and waited for an answer.

Rusty glanced around. "Think they're mostly friends of Cheryl's. Not like we're a big family. In fact, the only other person here that I'm likely to recognise is-"

A punch to his shoulder interrupted him.

"Oh. My. God. Robbie! Man!"

They turned round and Danny found himself staring at unlikely hair and an ill-fitting suit and a delighted grin and wide eyes and dedicated gum-chewing and…the family resemblance between the had-to-be cousins was uncanny.

"Chad," Rusty said heavily. "Hi, Chad."

Chad threw an arm round Rusty's shoulder and punched it again. "Man! I was, like, I'm not gonna know _any_one here at Mom's do and then here you are!"

"Here you are," Rusty said tightly, allowing his shoulder to be squeezed.

Chad stared at Danny and waited, grin on his face, to be introduced.

"I'm Danny Ocean," Danny supplied.

His hand was caught up and enthusiastically shaken.

"Pleased to meet you, Danny Ocean."

"I can see that," Danny smiled as the handshake continued.

_That hair..._

_...defies gravity. I know._

_Defies many things. And you know, he looks like-_

_Shut. Up._

"So what are you doing now, Robbie?" Chad asked, finally letting go of Danny's hand.

"I…travel. A lot."

"You fly?" Chad's eyes were wide. "Because I saw a programme on cable that was all, like, full of the dangers."

"Dangers?" Danny asked and Rusty studied a distant bird.

"Oh, my God, _yes,_ the dangers." Chad was nodding furiously. "Not just hijacks and shit and the recycled air and shit but the DVT thing?" He stared at Rusty. "Robbie, do you wear flight socks?"

Danny exploded into a choking fit that turned Chad's attention back to him.

"You OK, Danny?" he asked solicitously.

"He's fine," Rusty said. "If you'll excuse us, Chad, we've got to be going."

"Don't you want to hear what I'm doing? Man, it has to be…_years_."

"It is," Rusty agreed and then softly added, "and of course. Of course, I want to know what you've been doing."

A look of puppy gratitude appeared on Chad's face. "I've been training real hard – I mean real hard – and I'm finishing up my studies and then, then I'm going to be a personal trainer." He leaned in conspiratorially. "To the stars."

Danny looked again at the unlikely hair. "To the-"

"To the stars," Chad nodded solemnly and really, there was nothing they could say to that.

They had finally reached the food and Rusty reached out towards a chicken wing.

"Not good, man. Really not good. The shit they put in the barbecue sauce?" Chad was shaking his head. "You ever wonder at the colour of your shit? There's a fucking reason."

Rusty pulled back his hand. "Why don't you get a plate of food for both of us, Chad. We're going to be in the bar."

* * *

Danny waited until Rusty had returned with three whiskies.

"Three?" he asked and Rusty threw one of them straight down. "Easy. You're driving," Danny reminded him.

"I am," Rusty agreed fervently. "And we're out of here before Chad finds us."

Danny reached out and pulled the empty glass from Rusty's hand. "You know, he does look-"

"Don't say it." And there was a hint of a snarl and Danny nodded slowly.

"But he does," Danny shrugged.

Rusty gripped the second glass of whisky tightly. "The cookies were great. So was the milk. Cheryl and Adrian were kind. Chad – oh, do you get what they did with his name there? – Chad was…" He sighed. "Chad was like this annoying little Walton."

"He seems mostly harmless," Danny suggested.

"He is," Rusty agreed. "So's Jello."

"Would you run away from Jello?"

"Steve McQueen did."

Danny smiled. "It's OK. I know where the fire extinguishers are."

* * *

Rusty had settled down and was sipping the second glass of whisky at a more sedate rate. Bringing Danny was always going to have its downsides – he doubted it would be the last time he would hear the soubriquet "Robbie" – but the pros of support and reassurance were always going to outweigh any future teasing. Probably.

Danny's eyes had grown familiarly distant.

"What?"

"Flight socks..."

"Don't even-"

Danny sat forward. "Flight socks. Vaughan Simms. He's a hypochondriac and if we-"

"-plant something on the-"

"-and he'll be forced-"

"-_have _to-

"-and the private plane will be _so_ much easier to-

"-oh, so much."

They looked at each other.

"We need paper," Rusty said and Danny reached into two bar menus and tore out the loose leaves at the front.

* * *

They were immersed in a game of measurements and join the dots around a large hangar and Rusty was sketching a possible exit route and giving Danny a look for the nondebate about which of them was going to be the mechanic.

A large plates of crudités and dips was placed on the table beside the annotated menu pages.

"Whoa..."

Chad stood there, staring down at their handiwork. "There's numbers and shit...whoa...there's some pretty heavy shit here..."

He reached out to pick up one of the sheets and Rusty snatched the paper away. Surprise and hurt filled Chad's face and once again, Danny was reminded of a puppy. This time one whose master had beaten it. Rusty grabbed Chad's arm and pulled him down to the leather couch where he was sitting.

"We were just playing tic-tac-toe," Danny smiled.

"Huh," Chad said. "You know, I never win at that?"

_He amazes me._

Chad was frowning. "You sure that's all that was? Because it looked..." he paused and considered his words. "Classified."

"What did you bring us to eat?" Rusty asked, looking at the plate.

Diverted, Chad launched into an enthusiastic explanation. "Celery and cucumber and carrots and you've got a pumpkin and yellow squash puree dip, this one is made from eggplant and tahini and this is spinach and feta dip."

He looked at Rusty expectantly who slowly reached out and picking up a piece of cucumber, dipped the edge of it into the middle of something vaguely beige.

"S'lovely."

_Liar._

"Danny. You should try this."

"Yeah!" Chad agreed happily, pushing the plate towards him.

"Eggplant and...?"

"Tahini," Rusty muttered.

"Right. I'm sorry, Chad, but I'm eggplant...intolerant. Dip intolerant, in fact. Shame. It looks delicious. I'm sure Rus-Robbie will do it justice."

_Bastard._

"Anyway, that," Chad's voice dropped to a hoarse, intense whisper, "classified shit. What's that all about, Rob-"

He broke off and coughed as if he had swallowed his gum then clapped a hand over his mouth, his other hand pointing first at Rusty and then at Danny. When the hand was pulled away, his mouth was still wide open. "You're fucking spies!" The hand was back over his mouth. "I'm related to fucking James fucking Bond!"

"We're not spies," Rusty said hastily.

"We're not spies," Danny agreed.

Chad looked like he was never going to believe them.

"You can trust me, Robbie," he said sincerely. "I won't tell a soul."

_Ohhh...._

Danny saw Rusty close his eyes and rub them with his forefingers. He opened them again and looked at Danny and Danny simply waited. This was Rusty's call. This was his relative.

"It's why you travel," Chad nodded. "Fucking CI fuckin A. Do you carry guns?"

"No guns," Rusty said quickly and Chad looked torn between relief and disappointment. "I can't tell you what we do, Chad. I'm sorry. Danny and I...we work undercover a lot."

"Right...and this job," Chad indicated the no longer visible menu pages. "Maybe I could help...you know...with stuff..."

Rusty ran a hand over his mouth and closed it into a fist.

"He could help," Danny reiterated straight-faced.

_You know, with stuff._

_Shut the fuck up._

"Sorry, Chad. Security levels. Need to know basis. You understand."

"Right..." This time there was definite disappointment.

"Look. Let me get you a drink," Rusty offered.

"Gatorade?" Chad asked hopefully.

"Sure." Rusty stood up and knocked the plate of food flying. "Oh, Chad, I'm sorry..."

* * *

The now inedible food had been scooped off the floor and Rusty was at the bar acquiring the Gatorade. Danny looked over at the man opposite him, his eyes drawn inexorably to the quiff.

"I know what you're gonna ask," Chad said surprisingly. "It isn't natural. A _whole _lot of product."

"I'd never have guessed." Danny assured him. He hesitated for a moment and then said, "You seem fond of Robbie."

"Oh, he's the best!" Chad's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "You know he was so great when we were growing up. Once I forgot the combination to my Kryptonite lock on my bike - do you know you can open those with an ordinary Bic pen?"

"Robbie showed you," Danny guessed.

"Right!" Chad looked over at Rusty heading back with drinks. "He's amazing," he said and there was thoughtful and wistful and affection and maybe just a little hero worship for a cool cousin with a cool look and a cool job.

Danny saw and smiled.

* * *

They were driving away leaving behind Cheryl's drunkenly tearful exhortations to keep in touch and Chad's knowing nods of how he would keep their secret safe. Danny was sat sideways, watching Rusty as he drove.

"That's very distracting," Rusty suggested finally.

"Just thinking."

"If you call me-"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Rusty threw him a suspicious glance and then turned his attention back to the road.

"They're good people," he said and Danny nodded. "They're just...alright, what?"

"You. You with relatives. I've never seen you with...I'm just glad you've got family, Rus." This drew another glance and Danny qualified. "_Other_ family."

"Oh, they're definitely other." There was a pause and then Rusty sighed. "Maybe when Chad's finished his training we could open a few doors for him."

"With that hair?"

"Hollywood is very tolerant."

Another pause.

"What?" Rusty asked again.

"Do you think your-"

"No, it won't," Rusty snapped.

"You could try. Product is apparently the key."

This time the glance was longer and fiercer.

"What? You'd look alike for sure, then," Danny said and Rusty bared his teeth at him.

* * *

The motel was on the way to the airfield Vaughan Simms frequented and they fell through the door of the room and on to the beds, too tired for TV and both for once happy with the contents of vending machines by way of subsistence. The conversation was all about the hangar and playing the percentages and it had tailed off with the mutual thought that they would pick it up again in the morning.

Darkness surrounded them apart from the luminous glow of the alarm clock that was on the little table in between their beds.

Seemingly caught up in the Simms job, Danny had said little more about the day's revelations and Rusty was surprised and suspicious all at the same time. At last, he could bear it no longer.

"Just get it over with," he ground out.

"Get what over with?" Danny sounded sleepy.

"You know you're dying to. Just...Danny..."

"Goodnight, Robbie."

There was a definite smirk in the voice and then there was a chuckle and then there was laughter and Rusty found himself laughing too: sharing made even the most ridiculous things palatable.

"Definitely Rusty," Danny said as he had once long ago and they both fell asleep smiling.

* * *

A/N: Chad is from "Burn After Reading" for anyone who is wondering.


	15. Four Kisses

Four Kisses by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine, not mine.

A/N: Wrote this a while ago. And posting it with a smile because came to the startled conclusion that there's a lot of DannyandRusty kissing that goes on in my fic. And have been advised that there are myriad reasons as to why and that it's rarely about the slash element. There was a list somewhere... Anyway. Thought I'd add four more to the tally. :)

* * *

The first time he'd kissed him, it had been a motel room with intermittent cable and whisky drunk and as they'd switched between channels, he'd looked over at the man lying beside him on the bed and he'd leaned over, across the chocolate wrappers and the empty potato chip packets and pressed his mouth to his. His tongue had flicked up against lips that had parted and he'd lost himself for an instant in the taste of whisky-flavoured strength and persuasion and creativity and charisma. When he finally broke, there was no shock in the other's eyes just an eyebrow raised in amusement.

_Because…?_

He shrugged and there had been amusement in his eyes too. "Curiosity."

*

The first time he'd kissed him, it had been a hotel room and there had been success and celebration and a job that had gone as well as they'd hoped, better than they'd hoped.

There'd been laughter and relief and there'd been money, so much money and there'd been the buzz incarnate and each other and he'd pulled him to him and his lips were on his and this time _he'd_ sought entry and beyond the residual sweetness, there'd been the original and the exceptional and grace and passion to savour.

When they'd parted, there'd been a little giddy, light-headed moment and it was his turn to see the other's eyes dancing and it was his turn to offer up an explanation.

"Wanted to."

_Fair enough._

*

The next time they'd kissed had been off the back of the moment they'd thought they were going to lose each other and lose themselves.

The room was immaterial. They lay on the bed in silence, both thinking of the horror that hadn't quite happened and they'd turned to each other and both their gazes had fallen on the small round mark on each other's temples.

Neither of them had initiated it and both of them had. And they'd been kissing with intensity and it had been about the essential and the requisite and when they'd stopped and just held each other tightly till they'd fallen asleep, there had been no need for explanations because it had all been about the need.

*

The time when it wasn't about boredom or curiosity or want or need had been the time he'd walked back into the hotel bar and seen him brushing aside interest from a blonde and almost immediately afterwards from a blond. And he'd felt for the first time the pang of jealousy and he'd seen the sexiness – hell, he'd felt the sexiness – and it washed over him and he'd sat down next to him with it still on his mind.

And the other had looked at him and then looked at him more closely and when he'd raised his hand to order a drink, he'd felt gentle but firm fingers close round his and pull it back to the bar.

He'd turned to ask the question even though he wasn't certain it was the cleverest thing to do.

"Either you just had a very different experience in the men's room or we're heading upstairs," the other said, draining his drink and standing up and moving.

With his head still busy outlining the reasons why this was a bad idea, he'd followed because there were other parts of him insisting that it was the best thing they'd ever thought of.

The door had closed and they'd come together and their mouths met and as ever, there was nothing and no one else in the world.


	16. Deep and Crisp and Equal

Deep and Crisp and Equal by InSilva

Disclaimer: they _still_ don't belong to me. But you can't blame a girl for continuing to dream.

A/N: little "Body and Soul" verse drabbley fragment. And by "little" and "fragment", I mean very, very short. As in "this A/N is in danger of being longer than the actual fic".

And by contrast to the size of fic, an enormous thank you to everyone who's taken time to read my fic this year and to everyone who's been good enough to pass on their thoughts. Crikey. Second Christmas in this fandom. Unbelievable. (Oh, and _that_ is unbelievable too. And remain grateful and wondering and thrilled in equal amounts and this ought to be in eight point).

_

* * *

_

Christmas…

…artificial tree and sentiment.

Crisp green dollar bills float lovelessly from a card.

Dutiful sits at the same table as the contemptuous, the faded and the ineffectual.

The meal is eaten in sterile silence, each mouthful chewed and swallowed as slowlyquickly as he can get away with.

Escape is a warm kitchen and warm cookies.

*

_Christmas…_

…thin sunlight leaves him still bone-cold, soul-cold.

Streets are as empty as he is.

Hiding from hunger and the inevitable but MacAvoy finds him with the offer of a little Christmas bonus if he knows what he means.

Impossibly, the chill deepens.

*

_Christmas…_

…bright moonlight glints off crystal-frosted fields.

Mugs of hot chocolate steam up ice-feathered windows.

"It's the right kind of cold."

He nods. Because it is.


	17. Legends

Legends by InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine. Not even if I eat up all my greens.

* * *

"I'd rather be a vampire than a werewolf."

Lying on his stomach in the airshaft above the jewellers they were waiting to close, Danny considered the words and then turned his head to the right.

"Now that's a line you didn't hear Simon and Garfunkel sing."

Rusty nodded agreement and said no more. Danny left it for a moment or so and when nothing further was forthcoming, he poked the conversation into life again.

"Is it the hair?"

"Fur."

"Is it the fur?"

"S'got to be itchy, right?"

"Maybe. S'only one night a month though. Rest of the time you're human. If you're a vampire, you're pretty much...always dead."

"True, true. And sunlight's got to be a bitch."

"Mind you," Danny went on, "imagine what it's like every month when you feel the moon rise within your soul, the irresistible pull that cracks your bones and twists your body into a new form, the ancient curse burning through your very blood…"

BelaLugosi!Danny tailed off. Rusty was staring at him. "Oh, I'm keeping the light on tonight."

Danny pondered for a moment and then wondered aloud, "You ever think the whole deal with silver being deadly to werewolves was invented by cutlery manufacturers?"

"You think werewolves are behind plastic knives and forks?"

_Could be._

There was silence for a while and then:

"You'd never make it as a vampire."

Rusty raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You don't get to eat. You have to drink blood all the time."

"I could be a vegetarian vampire," Rusty protested.

"What does that entail?" Danny wanted to know. "Drinking the blood of carrots?"

"It entails self-restraint."

Danny snorted. "When it comes to meals?"

"Not like blood is the equivalent of an ice-cream sundae with hot chocolate fudge sauce."

_And a-_

"And a cherry." Hints of dreamy salivation.

"Maybe it is to a vampire."

"Huh." There was a long moment. "At least I'd get to bite the necks of mesmerised women."

_And what's new there?_

"Anyway," Rusty went on, "vampires have a lot less angst about their state of being. They enjoy life." Pause. A shrug. "Death."

"What about Louis?" At once.

"What about Lestat?" Immediate.

"You strike me as more of a Louis."

Rusty simply looked at him.

"OK," Danny conceded, "maybe not."

Both sets of professional instincts snapped into focus as below them, the assistants started locking up and clearing away the trays of diamonds and gold. As the last of them left, Rusty operated the hand-held device that deactivated the alarm.

"We good?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. Just the visuals."

* * *

In an empty office, a security screen displayed the moment when two men in black wearing ski-masks dropped into the shop. A short while later, one of the two men stood in front of the recording equipment and hit eject.

"Another reason it would be better to be a vampire," Rusty said, nodding at the tape in Danny's hands. "You wouldn't show up on that. Can't record the image of a vampire, remember? No mirrors and no security cameras."

Danny looked down at the tape and was lost in thoughtful silence as they headed over to the safe.

Rusty devoted his attention to liberating the jewels and the cash they had come for and then when the door swung open, he stopped and stared at Danny.

_What is it?_

"How do you think vampires shave?" Danny wondered, reaching into his pocket for the sensor-blocker that would stop the internal alarms triggering.

"Shave?" Rusty frowned as they loaded themselves up with money and diamonds.

"Yeah. Shouldn't there be more bearded vampires? ZZ Topp kind of length at that."

Rusty considered the point.

"Think they get frozen in time. Doesn't everything just stay the same as it was when they were bitten?"

Danny stepped back out of the safe. "Oh, that makes sense. Unfortunate if you're having a bad hair day."

Rusty grinned suddenly.

"What?" Danny demanded as they made their way back up and out, richer men for the shopping experience.

"Not being able to look at yourself in the mirror?" Rusty cracked the lock on the front door. "You wouldn't make it as a vampire either."

Danny scowled as they walked out into fresh air and headed back to their car, a couple of streets over and down.

"Anyway," Danny said, sliding into the passenger seat, pulling the ski mask off and running his hand over his hair. "Who wants to live forever?"

Rusty paused in the act of dropping his own ski mask on the back seat and shot him a look of amusement and affection.

_We're gonna give it a go, though, right?_

Danny just smiled.


	18. A Matter of Love and Death

A Matter of Love and Death by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own Danny, do not own Rusty.

A/N: Have been chided for posting "Reversal of Fortune" on Valentine's Day. This is by way of amends. ;)

* * *

They were running and it was simple. The bad guys with the guns were behind them and life and freedom lay ahead of them and they were headed away from one and towards the other.

Fog was rolling in through the woods and somehow, the unthinkable happened and Rusty lost sight of Danny. There was no time to stop and listen for him and it was deathwish to call out his name. All Rusty could do was run and run and trust to luck that he would find Danny again.

And then the mist lifted just for a moment and he saw Danny running across his path and he saw the gun raised and pointed at Danny's back and he couldn't get to the shooter in time and he couldn't get to Danny in time but he could get in the bullet's path…

* * *

"Non. Non, non, non, non, _non!"_

Rusty sat on the ground and blinked up at the foppishly dressed man who was leaning against the tree opposite.

"You, mon ami, you are impossible. Im-poss-i-ble." The stranger enunciated every syllable.

He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "So I've been told."

"And it is true! Absolument." The man pouted at him. "You are most incredibly annoying."

Rusty's lips twitched. "Been told that too." He looked quizzically at the dark-haired man. "And you are…?"

"I am extremely upset is what I am."

"I meant your name."

"Oh! Oh." The stranger considered for a moment and then said with a formal bow that would have looked old-fashioned two centuries ago, "You may call me Marius."

"Well, Marius, it's always a pleasure to make a new acquaint-" Memory came seeping back. The chase and the danger and-

"Danny!" He scrambled to his feet. "I've got to-"

"Zut alors," Marius muttered. "It is OK."

"Danny!" Rusty stood and shouted wildly.

"Danny is just fine."

"Says you - Danny!"

Rusty turned and his mouth was open to call Danny's name again and he was leaping over a tree root except he wasn't. He was stock-still in mid-jump and he couldn't move and he couldn't make a sound.

Marius was standing in front of him, head on one side.

"Now, you will stay and you will listen to me," Marius said and Rusty stared at him, at this insane stranger and desperation was eating through him, because _Danny, Danny, Danny…_

Marius gave an exaggerated sigh and the pout was back in place and the part of Rusty's brain which was not screaming at him to find his partner, was registering how very aggravating that facial expression could be.

"You and Danny. You steal from men who are going to do something about it if they catch you. You have done this since forever. The law of probability says that eventually they are going to catch you. The coin, it does not come up heads every time, n'est-ce pas?""

It had done so far, Rusty thought savagely.

"Tonight, the coin says tails. Tonight, the bullet finds its mark."

Oh, God,_ Danny_… It was fortunate he couldn't move because he would have fallen over.

"Tonight, it was Danny's time. Only it wasn't. You, mon ami, you got in the way."

Hope started to flicker in Rusty. Because the way the man was talking…

"Yes, yes, yes," Marius said crossly. "You sacrifice yourself, Danny survives." He looked at Rusty closely. "I am going to let you go. You will not run away. Comprends?"

Marius clicked his fingers and Rusty completed the jump, landing awkwardly but saving himself from falling.

"So…I'm dead…" Rusty said uncertainly. He didn't feel dead. He couldn't remember the bullet actually hitting. He felt very much alive. "I'm dead," he said again, trying to get used to the idea. He frowned. "And that makes you…"

"That makes me extremely put out. _Danny _should be dead," Marius told him firmly. "It was Danny's time. Not yours."

"But Danny's alive." Rusty needed to check, needed confirmation.

"Danny is alive and well. He shouldn't be. You are possibly dead. And you shouldn't be. See what I mean? Impossible."

Rusty latched on to the one word in that sentence he wanted supplementary on.

"Possibly?"

Marius shrugged offhandedly. "It is my job to show you the next part of your journey. But it is very, how you say, foggy. It is possible you might be missed."

Was there an _offer _here? Rusty hesitated. "Missing me sounds like a preferred option."

"In that shirt?" Marius snorted in an ungentlemanly fashion. "It would be a miracle."

"But if you _did_,_" _Rusty insisted, "I'd still be alive?"

Marius leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. "You would."

Rusty hadn't been living the con for as long as he had without seeing the gleam and understanding there was something behind it.

"What?" he demanded fiercely.

The shrug was there again. "_Someone_ has to come back with me."

"No. _No." _Rusty rounded on Marius harshly. "No. You're not taking him."

Marius threw his hands up in the air. "It would be so much easier! It is what should have happened!" He sighed and muttered, "They are going to be so unhappy upstairs."

"Sorry, but Danny's not going anywhere."

"There are accounts to be kept. There are numbers to tally." Marius glared at him. "You, mon ami, are a thorny little problem."

"So you keep saying." Rusty frowned and then his eyes narrowed. "So you keep saying," he repeated. "If I'm such a-"

"Oh, you are," Marius agreed fervently.

"Then why haven't you just…you _can't_, can you?"

"Of course, I can," Marius said huffily.

"It's not me holding things up…" Rusty exhaled slowly. "You _did _miss me in the fog, didn't you? And now you need to sort things out and…" Light dawned. "It's Danny. You need his permission."

"A stupid thing. A trifle."

"Danny won't let me die in his place."

"Non! You think I haven't tried to persuade him? So much neater, so much tidier. Intractable wretch. Anyone else would be thrilled not to die."

"And I'm not going to give up the right to death. It's my right. I died."

Marius looked furious. "You are incorrigible. Anyone else would be delighted to have a second chance at life."

"Well, that's us, Marius. Intractable and incorrigible. What are you going to do about it?"

Marius drew himself up. "I shall have to consult."

* * *

A small eternity passed in which Rusty had discovered that escaping from the clearing and the fog was impossible and that calling Danny's name didn't elicit an answer. Marius reappeared with a triumphant smile that Rusty didn't like the look of at all.

"It has been suggested that one self-sacrifice can be balanced by another."

Danny walked out of the fog and Rusty's heart leapt and sank at the same time.

"Rus…" Danny said with relief and quiet joy.

And then, Marius did whatever it was he did to stop time and Rusty was left speechless and imploring Danny with his eyes.

_Walk away, Danny, turn round and keep going, don't listen to him, please, please…Danny…_

Rusty couldn't hear the conversation – another little trick from Marius, no doubt - but he could guess what was being said - he could _tell _what was being said. Anger from Danny. Danny demanding answers. Gesticulating towards Rusty and Marius was making calming gestures. Good luck with that, Marius.

But there was explanation and there was a question and there was an answer. Immediate and without hesitation and Marius was smiling and Danny was raising his gaze to Rusty's eyes.

Love. Always and forever love.

And then Marius and Danny were walking away together through the fog and when Rusty could finally move, he ran forward, screaming Danny's name. Screaming and screaming and-

* * *

He woke up, his throat hoarse and Danny was there at once, with a glass of water.

"Steady," Danny admonished as Rusty pushed the water away and grabbed Danny's arm.

"You're alive," Rusty croaked.

"Yeah, I'm...hey…hey…" Danny looked down at the nails digging into his arm and then up at the wildness in Rusty. "We're safe. We got away."

"There was a man with a gun…"

"Yeah," Danny said quietly. "He was a lousy shot, thank God."

Rusty ran a hand over his shoulder and the bandage and then pressed the same hand up to Danny's cheek.

"I thought…"

"Not this time," Danny smiled.

Exhaustion washed over Rusty and he laid back down again, hand still on Danny's arm.

He would never be sure afterwards if he'd actually drifted off to sleep and he certainly was never going to tell Danny about it, but as he was closing his eyes, he heard a familiar sulky voice nearby.

"It appears that the universe likes the impossible. You two have friends in high places. Very high places."

* * *

A glint of silver caught Danny's eye as he sat next to Rusty's bed and he reached over to Rusty's pillow and picked up the double-headed dollar. Looked lucky. He thought he ought to keep it.

* * *

A/N: of course, of course, homage to a certain David Niven film. One of my favourites. :)


	19. Out of Character

Out of Character by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own, don't own.

A/N: there was a little surprised noise when I found this today from somewhere in early 2008. I had completely forgotten writing it. And is based on the premise that DannyandRusty really do have spaces in between.

* * *

The door closed and the last of their friends left. Rusty let out a huge sigh of relief and collapsed on the couch, dropping the halfeaten burger on the table beside him. He was joined by an equally relieved Danny.

"This is getting tricky," Danny remarked and Rusty nodded. Danny looked at him. "Can I just ask, when we were discussing the baseball game, did you mean to wink at me?"

"Ah. No. No. I can see where the confusion would lie," Rusty said. "I had in fact just got some tabasco sauce on my finger and an itch in my eye and I momentarily forgot what it would do to combine the two."

"I see. In which case, I apologise for the innuendo which followed."

"Perfectly natural. Apology accepted." A pause. "I hope I didn't overdo the halfsentence thing?"

"I don't think so," Danny said after some thought. "I feel we hit our normal quota."

"So when you were standing by the piano and Basher was playing and you looked over at me...can I just check exactly what you were thinking? It didn't have anything to do with sleeping with me, did it?"

"Good God, no! I was trying to think where I'd seen a shirt like yours before."

"Did you work it out?"

"Kentucky Derby. One of the jockeys."

"Hey!" Rusty frowned. "That was straying into banter."

"So it was," Danny acknowledged. "I apologise. It was true, though." He glanced down at the burger. "How is the whole eat, eat, eat garbage thing going?"

Rusty shook his head. "Horribly. I feel obliged to do it of course, but I really hanker after a nice piece of fruit."

"Shame. Oh, can I compliment you on your masterful mouth rubbing, by the way?"

"Did you like it?" Rusty sounded genuinely pleased. "I thought it was appropriate to include it. Your cool glance number 5 worked a treat too," he added by way of return.

"I am so glad you spotted that! I have been practising."

"It was perfect."

There was a cautious knock on the door and with a sigh, Rusty picked the burger up.

"Who is it?" Danny called.

"It's me. Linus."

"It's Linus," Danny said to Rusty with an eye roll that Linus would hear.

"Can't you see the "Do not disturb" sign?" Rusty asked.

There was a pause then an uncertain "No..."

"Can you imagine one?"

"Oh. _Oh_. It'll wait." There was the sound of footsteps scurrying away.

"Well, that avoided us kissing in front of him at least," Rusty said, putting the burger back down.

"We should do that, I feel," Danny suggested. "It could be amusing."

"Maybe tomorrow."

"When only he can see."

They thought about that for a moment and then bade each other goodnight.

* * *

A/N: Interestingly enough, in my head I hear Mr Pitt and Mr Clooney for the lines where they are DannyandRusty and some frightfully well-spoken English accents for the other lines. :)


	20. Something Early

Something Early by InSilva

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Danny/Rusty. For once, most definitely.

And otherhawk? 21 April 2008. To save you looking. ;)

* * *

Sometime early, a soft kiss had brushed his lips, faint and tender and he'd smiled, still half-asleep and arched his way upwards, seeking something longer and deeper.

"S'early," came the response.

He'd crooked an eye open at that and woken up a little more because early was never too early just like late was never too late and any time was right so what…

In the dawnlight, Rusty was dressed and wearing the shiny shirt and cream suit from yesterday and an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

"Where you goin'?" Danny sleep-slurred.

"Go back to sleep," Rusty instructed. "I'll be back when you wake up."

"Where're you going?" Insistent.

Rusty sighed. "I'm cheating on you with the bellhop."

"Oh." Danny considered. "Well, that's alright then."

He closed his eyes and settled back down to sleep and waited. A finger poked his ribs hard and he didn't have to look up to see the _Alright?_

"'m already sleeping with him. He's no great shakes. You'll come back to me."

He started counting. He'd got to five before he felt Rusty slide back into bed behind him and then he turned and grabbed him and kissed him hard.

"Fuck but you're needy," Rusty mock-moaned. "Guy can't even go out for breakfast without-"

Danny shut him up with another kiss.

"Don't ever give me 'S'early' again," Danny told him eventually.

Rusty ran his fingers lightly over Danny's shoulder and scowled until Danny did something about it.

* * *

Danny woke properly as Rusty walked back through the hotel room door.

"Didn't kiss you goodbye this time," Rusty explained. "Figured I'd never get to eat. Brought you these," he added, handing over the Sunday papers.

"You get breakfast?"

"Waffles." Rusty's voice turned dreamy. "Fresh and warm with thick golden syrup dripping off them and spoonfuls of whipped cream just melting…"

"Will you stop with the food porn?"

The sulk was immediate.

"You never object-"

"That's different," Danny said at once. "You save any for me?"

Rusty held up a bag. "Coffee and Danish. Move over."

Danny smiled. "Breakfast in bed? Thought you'd eaten."

"Thought you knew me."

_Point._

* * *

Sunshine licked the wallpaper of the hotel room where they were holed up. Danny lay face down on the bed, his left hand idly turning the pages of the newspaper splayed over the pillows. His equally lazy right hand was drawing figures of eight absent-mindedly on Rusty's right hip bone as he lay next to him, facing the wall.

"Piece from the Uffizi is coming over on tour," Danny read aloud as an article caught his eye.

There was a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Might be worth a look."

There was another grunt and Danny read on in silence about the schedule and the history of the sculpture and his mind was running on possible buyers-

"Quit that, will ya?"

Danny's right hand froze in surprise but acquiescence.

"Not. That." The words came over in a growl. "The other."

_Oh…_

Grinning, Danny pushed the paper away.


	21. Hiccoughs

Hiccoughs by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own. Though willing for timeshare company to try and make me buy them.

* * *

The thing was, it had been drilled into him at an early age that with the con, as with comedy, it was all in the timing. A well-delivered punchline whose success depended on preparation, on knowing the audience and above all, on effective delivery.

Which meant that with half an hour to go before he had to become Henry Pearson Gates, Linus knew he was in trouble.

He'd have liked to blame it all on someone else. Yen, maybe, or the twins or Basher. Except that they were all currently engaged elsewhere on the job.

And he'd very much like it if no one - _(Danny or Rusty) – _actually found out. Unfortunately…

"Danny? Rusty?" Livingston was looking at him and speaking into the microphone. "We've got a problem."

* * *

Danny and Rusty came through the doors of the hotel suite and Livingston looked up from the monitors and jerked his head towards the other side of the living area.

"He's through there."

Linus was. Sitting on the couch with a glass of water and a miserable expression.

Danny frowned. "Linus, what…?"

A gentle hiccough answered him.

Danny and Rusty looked at each other.

_Oh…_

Henry Pearson Gates needed to be a slick and sassy Wall Street banker. Henry Pearson Gates needed to be smooth-talkin', wise-crackin', sharp-dressin', quick-firin', finger-lickin' good.

Henry Pearson Gates needed to be hiccough-free.

"Water," Livingston supplied from behind them. "I said to drink water backwards."

"Upside down," Rusty corrected.

Danny nodded. "Stand on your head, Linus."

"I can't stand on my – _hic! _– head! I can't do a handstand!"

"Over here," Danny instructed, indicating the wall.

"I can't!" Linus insisted.

"We'll hold your legs," Rusty assured him.

"It'll be fine," Danny added.

Linus looked from one to the other. "Oh, God…"

Upside down, his arms supporting him and Rusty's hands firmly round his ankles, Linus tried to gulp down the glass of water that Danny was ushering to his lips.

"Better?" Livingston called through from the other room.

Linus gave it a moment.

"_Hic!"_ he replied helplessly.

"Keys," Danny suggested, when Linus was upright again.

Rusty's car keys materialised in his hand and without ceremony, Danny pulled back Linus's shirt collar and dropped them down Linus's back.

"Ow!" Linus exclaimed, retrieving the keys. "They're – _hic! –_ sharp!"

"Paper bag," Rusty said decisively. "You gotta breathe in and out of a paper bag."

"Have we _got_ a paper bag?" Danny queried.

Rusty disappeared into the other room and rummaged around Livingston's ankles amongst the remains of last night's takeaway. He came back triumphant.

Linus's nose wrinkled. "This smells of cold fries."

"Just breathe in and out," Rusty told him as Danny checked his watch. "Henry needs to be on stage in ten minutes."

Obediently, Linus inhaled and exhaled a few times.

"Well?" Rusty asked, pulling the bag away.

They waited. There was silence. Smiles broke out all round.

"Thanks, guys," Linus sighed. "Don't know what I'd do – _hic!"_

Loud and insistent.

"Fuck," Danny said pleasantly. He looked over at Rusty. "Well, we could…"

"No." Rusty shook his head. "You're needed tomorrow and I'm already playing the lawyer."

"Hey, I can do it!" Linus said indignantly. "I can – _hic! –_ do it, guys!"

"Not like _that_ you can't," Danny told him.

"What about a shock?" Livingston suggested.

Rusty and Danny considered as Linus sat and hiccoughed sulkily.

_We could_…

_We could._

Rusty's hand reached up to cradle Danny's cheek and Danny's thumb reached out and brushed Rusty's mouth. Linus's eyes were wide and unblinking and the moment stretched for a lifetime of a second.

"Alternatively," Danny said.

"Yeah, you're right," Rusty agreed. "We can just kiss Linus."

They moved to the couch and sat either side of him, Danny's hand on Linus's left knee, Rusty's fingers brushing Linus's chest.

"_Guys!_" Linus squeaked, leaping to his feet as if high-voltage electricity had shot through his body.

He span on his heel and faced them.

"Guys…" Linus shook his head, speechless, scandalised and undoubtedly shocked.

They settled back on the couch, waiting.

"Guys…" Linus said slowly. Experimentally. He grinned. "They're gone."

"You're welcome, Henry," Danny smiled.

"Now go get 'em," Rusty advised. "You're up in five."

"Thanks," Linus sighed happily. "These things never happen to anyone but me."

Rusty waited till Linus had gone and then checked that Livingston was suitably engrossed with the monitors.

_Don't-_

"Tennessee. First Western Bank. Air shaft."

"Damn you."

The half-grin crept over Rusty's face. "Took more than one kiss."

"What about Vancouver?" Danny countered. "Closet in Adrian Waterman's house?"

"Oh, yeah," Rusty nodded. "That kiss lasted _forever_."

"So did the hiccoughs," Danny muttered.

The grin widened. "That's what _you_ think."

_Damn you!_

"Guys," Livingston interrupted. "Linus is in play."

"That's my cue," Rusty said, getting to his feet, straightening his tie and walking through to where Livingston was seated.

Danny followed.

"You think that's it for this job?" he asked.

Rusty frowned and then screwed his face up, shaking his head as he did so.

"What do you mean?" Livingston obliged and Danny beamed.

"Any more hiccoughs?"


	22. Confusion

Confusion by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own any of them. _Have_ acquired a hamster called Doc.

A/N: two short pieces from way back that I found and thought I'd share. Contains Danny/Rusty though nothing explicit explicit.

* * *

**Together**

They'd been lying spooned together in the ventilation shaft for nearly an hour and for the past fifteen minutes, Rusty had been growing increasingly quiet, increasingly tense and increasingly angry.

"Cashier's packing up," Danny whispered from somewhere behind his right ear as he peered down into the shop.

"Mmph."

"Manager's locking the jewellery away."

"Mmph."

"What do you reckon? Ten minutes?"

"Mmph."

"Alright. That does it. What is eating you?"

With immense effort, Rusty wriggled round in the confined space to face him.

"There's a time and a place," he snapped wearing an expression of pure fury and his right hand shot down to grab in between Danny's legs.

"What the fuck?" Danny hissed and Rusty's hand melted away because what he'd been expecting wasn't there at all.

Consternation to match Danny's filled his face. Then he saw Danny's brow clear and after much careful fidgeting and wiggling of his own, Danny produced a pencil flashlight.

"Oh."

"Come here," Danny said with exasperation, pulling him into their original position and wrapping an arm around Rusty's waist, pulling him close.

Rusty felt the silent laughter at his neck.

"Think you're so damn irresistible, don't you?"

"Shut up."

There was a pause and then there was more smiling behind him.

"I really wasn't that pleased to see you."

OK. He was going to have to kill this now.

"I should have realised sooner. I mean that flashlight's got to be what? Six inches?"

* * *

The job was over and they were back in their hotel room, diamonds stashed, takeout devoured, whisky drunk. Rusty lay on his side in his bed and immediately every sense hit high alert as Danny slid in beside him, moulding his body to his, wrapping his arms around him and burying his mouth in Rusty's neck.

"I want to make sure you can tell the difference," he murmured. "I'd hate you to be confused again."

And Rusty smiled.

* * *

**Playing**

**A/N: the only Rusty/Linus I am ever likely to write. ;)**

There was a moment of blinking and grogginess and then suddenly Linus was wide awake. Because Rusty was slipping into his bed, barechested and wrapping his arms round him and murmuring into his throat and...Rusty's eyes were tight shut and...his lips were warm and...damn it, _sensual _and... Linus's breathing grew shallower and shallower as Rusty's fingers langorously caressed his shoulders and his arms and moved down his body, down to his waist and...

And then the lights went on and Danny was stood in the doorway. Stood in the doorway with a very unamused expression. Linus sat bolt upright.

"I didn't-!"

"Relax, Linus, I know _you_ didn't."

Rusty was blinking innocently up into the light and staring at himself and at Linus and at Danny with a very good impersonation of confusion.

"Jeez, sorry, kid. What can I say? Sleepwalking again."

He slid out of Linus's bed and there was undoubted conversation going on between Danny and himself that Linus couldn't see let alone hope to see.

"Night, Linus," Danny said and shut the door.

Linus lay back on the bed and was not going to be thinking about the warmth of Rusty and the touch of Rusty and... he shook his head. He was not. Except his window was open. And next door the window was open too. And words were floating in.

"What were you thinking of?" Tight and angry.

"You were late." Unapologetic.

"I was late...more like you were-"

"I was. I am." With a growl.

"You seriously think freaking Linus out is a good idea?"

"I didn't hear Linus complaining."

Pause.

"Do you actually want sex tonight?"

Linus's eyes shot open even wider than they were already. He held his breath.

"I mean, I'm just checking. Do you actually want my hands running over your body, my mouth against your ear, do you want me to use my ton-"

Danny was cut off by what could only be a kiss.

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"You'd better." A moment. "Night, Linus!"

"Ni-" he began and then screamed silently at having been played yet again. He slammed the window to in a huff.

* * *

Danny reached over and closed the window with a chuckle.

"He will think we are bastards. Though you more than me."

Rusty sat on the bed and grinned at him.

_What?_

"Thought I was on a promise."

Danny sighed.

"The trouble with you," he complained, "is that you never know when to stop playing."

"No, I _do _know." Rusty reached up and pulled him down. "I just don't care to."


	23. Fate, Fear and Fairytale

Fate, Fear and Fairytale by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own, don't own.

A/N: have stolen title from myself! *is proud* Of course, originally saw it on a set of posters at Copenhagen Airport but have no idea whom I should be crediting for that. ;)

A/N: for otherhawk and her fiancée. Won't be able to type that for very much longer.

* * *

There was no clue that this was going to be the day that her life changed. She felt quite certain she would have remembered if the journey into work had been accompanied by shooting stars or a bevy of cooing doves. In fact, if the afternoon lived down to the morning, it was definitely shaping up to be a day of a handful of customers and nothing very much.

The art gallery door opened: in walked dark eyes and a smile and her breath hitched. She looked away, heart beating fast, and found a pile of paperwork that suddenly demanded attention. Delivery schedules and a private viewing and she really ought to get the invites out for the exclusive show. (_Did she have lipstick on her teeth?)_

Trouble was, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself, she was still acutely aware of the man's presence as he walked slowly around the two floors. He was impossible to ignore. Just the one glimpse that thrilled through her memory and...

_Ridiculous,_ she told herself. _What are you going to do? Ask him out?_

She never did the asking. She was always the askee. And she was never obvious, never desperate, never… He came down the stairs from the mezzanine floor, skirting the handful of customers and- was he heading for the door? He halted in front of a painting and she let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding. She might never see him again. If he walked out of here and kept walking, that could be it.

_Ridiculous,_ she told herself and this time the word had less of the scornful and more of the nervous. _What are you thinking? That this is some higher power at work?_

As if maybe, she was meant to meet him.

Ridiculous.

But that didn't stop her picking up a catalogue and walking right into his path.

* * *

The morning of her wedding and she was eyeing the bottle of malt whisky on the side with longing. She had issued a strict instruction to herself that she was not going to throw up but her body seemed determined to rebel.

Wedding. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Suppose she messed up. Suppose she tripped over or fluffed her lines or forgot her flowers or-or- Suppose he wasn't waiting for her.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. He would be there. He would. And even if she dropped the ring down the grating in the church, it wouldn't matter. What mattered was the service and the words and the promise to each other. The marriage.

Marriage. Together forever commitment and a future stretching out in front of them. Everything she wanted with the man she loved. Oh, God. Suppose she messed up the other side. Not at the wedding but afterwards. Suppose she did something stupid and hurtful. Suppose they argued and he left her and she lost him. She pictured dark eyes clouding over with pain and anger and vowed she would do anything to stop that look appearing on his face. After all, she could never imagine him hurting her.

Somehow, her fingers had unscrewed and poured the whisky without her realising. She swallowed a mouthful and it burned reassuringly on its way down, driving away the unhelpful nerves. She looked at herself in the mirror and squared her shoulders. Alright. She could do this.

* * *

_Five years later…_

Blue eyes were looking at her and she didn't need to be either of them to read the "_You OK?"_.

She took his hand and climbed out of the car, nodding and smiling and biting back on the worry. This was nothing about how she'd felt the first time round. This was all about lost years and never ever wanting to lose anything more. A reassuring smile right back at her and then her arm was drawn through his and they walked into the registry office.

Immediately, her eyes were on the man standing waiting. He turned his head and her breath hitched as she saw dark eyes smiling and full of love and promise and certainty. Anxiety melted away and her smile lit up the room. This wasn't about the past, this was all about the future. He believed in the happy ever after and she believed in him.


	24. That Sentimental Feeling

That Sentimental Feeling By InSilva

Disclaimer: I didn't invent any of 'em. This should be no surprise. :)

A/N: for you, mate. Hope you enjoy. Sorry it's late. That's as in days not as in time of day though I'm sorry about that too. :D And it's for everything amazing and wonderful and unlooked for. Feel very lucky.

* * *

Pia had brought the matter to their attention. Rusty was never quite sure exactly how to describe what Pia did for a living but she had access to privileged information and meticulous skill in putting jigsaw pieces together. In this case, an auction sale and a report on a dead man's estate. Interesting information dangled tantalisingly and they were interested enough to pay Pia's finder's fee.

Pia had supplementary. Of course, she did. And a week later, they knew they needed it. Pia knew it too. Danny had gone to collect. Rusty had stayed and worked the details.

Time's significance faded which meant he was pleasantly surprised when Danny returned bearing doughnuts and coffee.

"Breakfast?"

"Lucky guess. Admit it, you have no idea what time of day it is."

Rusty ignored him and bit into a doughnut, letting the sugar coat his lips and the jam linger on his tongue because sweet stuff always helped. He looked over at Danny, coffee in hand, studying the scribbled notes scattered over the bed.

"You know, a graphologist would have a field day with you." Danny squinted hard at a piece of paper.

Rusty reached over and turned it the other way up.

_Ah…_

"And you say _I'm _tired."

"So what have we got?"

"We've got a music-loving mark called Aidan Sands, dead from cancer, who took the secret to the whereabouts of the missing Stradivarius to his grave."

"Missing Stradivarius. Sounds very-"

"-Holmesian. Yeah." Rusty ate more doughnut. "So. Divorced an age ago. No boyfriend, no girlfriend, no close confidant. Business partners? None. Best friends? None. Livingston's pulled his financial records…nothing. He left his entire fortune to the New York Philharmonic. There's nothing to dig _into_, Danny."

"You said divorced…his wife?"

"Ex-wife. Dead ex-wife called Tanya. Died a year ago."

_Huh. _

_Yeah._

"So what did you get from Pia?" Rusty asked. "Apart from the offer of a free massage."

"_Two _free massages," Danny corrected.

Rusty shrugged. "You don't look that tense."

"One each," Danny explained patiently.

_Oh…_

"Possibly simultaneously," Danny muttered, choosing his moment.

Rusty blinked in mid-doughnut.

_Huh._

_Yeah._

"So what did you-"

"Six months ago, he engaged a private detective on a cash for results basis to track down one Henry Hollister."

"Well, _that_ sounds-"

"It does. Just that there is no trace of a Henry Hollister in his life."

Rusty shot bolt-upright and with the non-doughnut hand grabbed a copy of a marriage certificate. "Not a _Henry_ Hollister."

* * *

Henry Hollister had taken his mother's name after the divorce and that was nothing unusual. Where Henry stood out from the crowd was an IQ approaching genius where math was concerned and a scholarship to university.

"He's also lead singer in a band called Skream and he works part-time at a fast food joint," Rusty contributed to the group briefing.

"And that gives us three ins," Danny added.

"Starting with?" Linus wanted to know.

"Starting with a new arrival on campus," Danny told him.

"Right," Linus nodded and then saw the way they were both looking at him. "Wait, me?"

* * *

The new boy was smiling and friendly and pleasant and none of it cut any ice with Henry.

"He doesn't want to know," Linus said wearily. "All he does is-" He broke off and then reluctantly finished, "all he does is make mathematical jokes that I don't get."

Yen made a comment to the effect that Linus needed to develop his sense of humour and Linus scowled.

Danny looked at Rusty. "Next?"

* * *

Next was Reuben wandering into the hall where Skream were rehearsing. To Reuben, the group seemed really well named. One long protracted protest as if hands had been trapped inside machinery. Maybe not hands. Maybe other body parts.

Henry Hollister had long black hair, wore a T-shirt with holes in it and jeans with bigger holes that barely covered his boxer shorts. Reuben supposed it was the latest fashion. In any case, who was he to judge?

Reuben waited till they took a break and introduced himself as a Vegas impresario who was looking for new acts to feature on the Strip.

"Sent me away with a flea in my ear," Reuben reported back. "Didn't I know that they were all about youth versus the establishment." He puffed on his cigar and frowned. "Who knew Vegas was the establishment?"

Rusty looked at Danny. "Third time lucky?"

* * *

Tom Ferguson, manager of the fast-food restaurant, had a headache and for once, it was nothing to do with customers. He was advertising for seasonal temps and he'd had a hard day of interviewing.

Four people he'd seen and none of them had been anywhere close to suitable. Tom picked up the application forms. That angry little Chinese guy, for instance. More likely to throw the food at the customer than put it on a tray. Or that older guy who moved like a snail into the room. Tom squinted at the blurred date of birth. Oh, that had to be a lie. Guy had to be seventy if he was a day. Not that he had anything against seventy-year-olds. Just the ones that seemed they would take three hours to serve up a meal.

Then there was the geeky-looking fellow who'd been ridiculously nervous and whose footwear had been wholly inappropriate. Tom's eyes kept drifting down to the slippers and the bare feet within. In the end, he'd had to ask.

"_I feel comfortable. Restriction makes me nervous."_

_Tom looked at the sweat dripping down the man's face. "This is you relaxed?"_

After the geeky guy, a smart-looking man had walked in and Tom had broken into a genuine smile. Finally. The smile lasted until the man opened his mouth and started laying down rules.

"_These hands don't do dishes. These hands don't do grease."_

_The hands had been brandished in front of Tom and Tom had had to agree that they were indeed beautifully maintained._

"_We could put you on table clean down duty-" _

"_These hands don't do cleaning."_

These hands hadn't been hired.

Tom checked the list. Two more to see. And at this stage, he was ready to hire anyone who looked even halfway capable. His phone rang and he answered it.

"_To-om…"_

Wendy. His on-off girlfriend. Sounded like it was on again. A moment later and he knew he was flavour of the month again. As long as he got round to Wendy's toot sweet. He looked at his watch and winced.

There was a knock on the door. His next guy, Iain Bellingham, walked into the room and sat down. Iain was smartly dressed and first impressions were all positive. A little older than the rest of the team but that wasn't a bad thing. Would probably have a steadying influence on some of the others. Tom had made his mind up before Iain had sat down.

"You local?"

"Yes, I-"

"You're free to start straightaway?"

"Yes, but-"

"Good. You're in. Month's trial."

Iain looked shell-shocked at his good fortune.

"Start tomorrow," Tom told him, grabbing his jacket. "9am."

* * *

"You weren't supposed to get the job," Rusty pointed out yet again in the manner of Michael Caine, just to be annoying. "The plan was to-"

"-force the choice and get Virgil hired," Danny said irritably. "I _know. _I didn't get the chance to._"_

"We did our part," Frank pointed out and Yen agreed volubly.

"I didn't get the…" Danny gave up and looked at Rusty who grinned and moved closer to top up Danny's whisky, shielding Danny from the others.

"You're going to have a proper job," Rusty murmured.

"Oh, _God_." Danny downed the whisky in one.

* * *

A health and safety induction, a tour of the kitchen and introduction to other members of the crew, all of them students at the university.

His shopfloor training started off the shopfloor courtesy of Helen, the bubbly team leader.

"_Error message #13!"_

"Watch me," said Helen for the fifth time.

It didn't matter how many times he watched her. The till was a series of mystifying buttons and error messages. Danny scowled down at his enemy.

"It's really simple, old man," drawled Seth, standing behind him. "Like using a big calculator. Or did you have abacuses when you were growing up?"

"Probably a wax tablet and stylus," Greg snickered.

"_Boys_," Helen scolded and that would have been more effective, Danny thought, if she didn't look like she was still a teenager herself.

"Don't worry, Iain," Helen said encouragingly. "We've all had to get the hang of this system. Try again."

Danny smiled and pressed a hopeful combination of keys.

"_Error message #29!"_

"Ooh," Helen said wonderingly, picking up the manual. "I haven't seen that one before."

Terrific.

* * *

It was early afternoon before they let him loose in the kitchen.

"Let's start with prep," Helen suggested.

Danny contemplated the lettuce, cucumber and gherkins.

"Henry, do you want to help Iain?"

Henry didn't look that enthused. Danny shot him a warm smile.

"Now you know I can do with all the help I can get."

"_That's _for sure!" Seth agreed and Greg laughed.

Henry said nothing but he picked up two knives and handed one to Danny.

"Like this," he said softly.

* * *

Shift over and back at base, Rusty was waiting with burgers and fries. Danny looked at the food.

"This amusing you?"

Rusty took a long look at the primary-coloured uniform and the name badge.

"Well, yeah," he admitted freely.

Danny picked up a burger and sat down on the couch. "You know, I'm too tired to care," he said, biting into it.

"It was all I could do to stop the twins coming in to order."

Danny shuddered.

"How is it?" Rusty asked, sitting down in the easy chair and grabbing a handful of fries.

"Feels like I've been picked up and dropped straight back in high school with the added complication of customers and the till from hell."

Rusty nudged the bag of fries in Danny's direction. "And Henry?"

Danny sighed. "Keeps himself to himself. Doesn't mix with any of them. Doesn't want to know _me."_

"Yet," Rusty said immediately.

A smile crept onto Danny's face for the first time.

_You are ridiculously-_

"S'only a matter of time," Rusty said with confidence.

The smile vanished.

"I've got a month. _Less_ than a month because as soon as they find out how badly I'm making the burgers, they'll can me."

Rusty shot him a look of sympathy. "I'll get us a cold one."

By the time Rusty got back from the fridge with the beers, Danny was asleep on the couch, half-eaten burger in his fingers. Rusty pulled the food from his hand and found a blanket to drape over Danny. Not like he hadn't done it before; not like Danny hadn't done it for him a thousand times.

* * *

Despite Rusty's prediction, Henry remained resistant to the Dannycharm. Nothing else changed either. Helen was bouncy and Seth and Greg continued to be jerks and the other staff ignored him.

Out front, the pleasant customers were in the minority: the rest were hassled and arrogant and monosyllabic and impatient and patronising and angry. Danny's till skills only incited tutting and frowning and on a couple of occasions, threats.

_He saw the look in Rusty's eyes when he told him._

"_No," Danny said firmly. _

"_No what?"_

_Oh, _please.

"_Alright." Reluctant and with a hint of pout._

The kitchen wasn't any easier to work in. Apart from the fast and furious pace, there were bewildering acronyms flowing through the air. "ESEBWCNG", for example, translated to "Extra Size Emperor Burger With Cheese No Gherkins".

"_Just a series of Scrabble hands," was Danny's verdict. "Not that you'd struggle. It'd be another language to learn."_

_Rusty shrugged. "I'd probably end up inventing new words." _

"_You probably would," Danny nodded. "God knows I've invented new burgers."  
_

A week into the job and this morning he was kitchenside, interpreting the initials and preparing and frying the food. A mechanical process that didn't demand all of his attention but that wasn't a good thing because the knives were sharp, the oil was hot and with free time on his hands, Danny's mind darted back unwillingly to Willard Dean and his unnatural enjoyment of others' pain.

"Daydreaming, old man? Don't let Tom catch you."

Seth. On his lunchbreak and given the first rain-free day all week, heading outside for a cigarette with Greg. Danny ignored them and continued to assemble an Extra Size Emperor Burger With Bacon And Cheese. Possibly. He glanced at the photo offered for guidance and at his attempt and thought they might be distantly related. Second cousins perhaps.

"Probably thinking what he's going to spend his wages on," Greg suggested.

"You're gonna have to save up for the Zimmer frame."

"You think that's going to speed him up?"

"Can't possibly slow him down, right?"

They disappeared, laughing and then Danny realised Henry had followed them into the kitchen. He looked up with the same bright smile that he'd smiled every time he'd seen Henry and was met by the same indifferent expression. Like the kid was happy to drift through life engaging with no one.

"Helen sent me back here to help," Henry said by way of explanation and immediately buried himself in the backlog of orders, closing off all conversation.

Danny wondered if this was what trying to make friends with a brick wall felt like.

* * *

Twenty minutes later and the flurry of tickets had calmed down, earning them a visit from a beaming Helen.

"You want to take out the garbage, Iain? Then you can go on break. You too, Henry."

Danny changed the sack and headed out to the back, dully aware that Seth and Greg were standing facing the far wall near the water barrel. Seth and Greg didn't matter. What mattered was that a week in and Danny _still_ hadn't managed the breakthrough and they were still minus a Stradivarius. Frustration ate at him. He was inclined to blame manual labour for getting in the way of the thinking. If he'd had a job with a clipboard-

A yelp broke into his thoughts and Danny spun on his heel, lid of the garbage bin in his hand. The sound had come from where the boys were stood and it most certainly hadn't belonged to either of them.

The noise came again. Animal. In pain. Distressed. And it was followed by laughter.

The lid and the garbage sack were dropped and Danny strode across to confront them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Commanding.

Seth and Greg jumped as one and turned guiltily. Behind them, Danny could see a white smooth-coated puppy struggling to stay afloat in the water barrel. There was discoloration on the skin on its head and Danny's eyes went automatically to the cigarette in Greg's fingers.

Danny could feel the rage burning through him and with a struggle, he reminded himself that repulsive as they were, these boys were barely men.

"Get out of here," he said and his voice was low and his fists were clenching.

Seth recovered some of his bravado. "Or what, old man? You gonna teach us a lesson?"

"Yeah," Greg scoffed. "You and whose army?"

"I don't need an army," Danny told them and this time he let them see his eyes.

He took a step towards them and they melted back into the restaurant. Danny moved quickly to the water barrel and scooped out the trembling puppy. It shivered in his fingers and he cradled it close to his chest, wishing he had something more to offer it.

"Here."

Danny looked up and there was a towel and at the other end of the towel, there was Henry.

* * *

"Seth and Greg are jerks."

It was the first sentence Danny could remember Henry actually volunteering.

"I'll go along with that."

They were sat in the animal hospital waiting for the vet to see them. The puppy seemed to have recovered its equanimity and was busy trying to chew Danny's fingers.

"You were really…" Henry paused and considered the adjective. "You were really great. I mean I could tell you wanted to punch them out and _they_ could tell you wanted to punch them out but you didn't need to. You just _looked_ at them."

There was more than a little awe in there. Danny smiled.

"It's a gift," he said self-deprecatingly.

Henry nodded. "It is," he agreed sincerely.

* * *

"So what happened to the puppy?" Rusty wanted to know.

"Mayo."

_What?_

"You weren't there so I let Henry christen him," Danny explained. "Mayo is fine, all things considered. He's not chipped and he wasn't wearing a collar so Henry's taken him home for the time being. Seems certain his landlady will not only understand but help look after him. We're going to ask around and see if we can find his owner. I think Henry's hoping he'll get to keep him." He smiled. "He's a good kid."

Rusty was also smiling. "Guess Henry doesn't need a friend after all. He just wants a fath-"

"Don't!" Danny's hand shot automatically up to his hair where ever more grey was showing. He wasn't old enough to be grown-up yet.

* * *

Week two and everything had changed. Seth and Greg had walked out of the job, apparently fearing that where animal cruelty was concerned, a dim view would be taken. Danny felt he now had a one in five shot of getting the till to co-operate. And Henry was talking to him like he'd just discovered the art of conversation.

Sometimes the topics were predictable…

"_How's Mayo getting on?"_

_Henry's face lit up. "He's doing fine. Although Mrs Harper, my landlady, said he chewed her table legs. Good thing she's a dog-lover."_

Sometimes the topics were impenetrable…

"_I was up all night with this set of equations…"  
_

Sometimes the topics were less impenetrable than they seemed…

"…_our tutor challenged us to deconstruct the formulae back to the original thought – to try and capture where the idea came from…"_

"_Sounds like you're straying into philosophy."  
_

"_You know _I_ said that!"_

And eventually, eventually…

A warm day and a shared break with a soda and an account of the previous night's public performance by Skream.

"We had ten people in the audience. Five of them left at the interval," Henry said pensively.

Danny pushed away the uncharitable thought that they were music-lovers.

"Your parents musical?"

Henry's face clouded over. "My parents are dead."

"I'm sorry."

There was a silence and Danny let it grow, sensing that Henry had more to say.

"My parents split up when I was young and Mom and I moved back to her home. All the things Mom told me about him…I was so _angry_ at Dad. And I never heard from him when I was growing up. It was like he wanted to forget me like Mom wanted to forget him. Then, after Mom died, I found all these letters Dad wrote me."

"Letters?"

"So many letters...birthday cards…" Just a hint of wonder. "I guess he did care. There are always two sides to a story, right?"

"Right," Danny agreed softly.

"The letters stopped about six years ago." He gave a shrug. "We moved to the city six years ago."

"Did you get back in touch?"

Henry sighed. "I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do. After all, it had been so long. After a while though, I thought what did I have to lose? I got up my courage, got hold of his phone number and rang him."

"I bet he was pleased to hear from you."

"Didn't really give him the chance to say. I just stuttered out a few words and then hung up."

Enough to have made Aidan Sands want to find his long-lost son all over again.

"Did you try again?" Danny asked gently.

There was a grimace. "Next time I called, I found out he was dead. Nothing like leaving it too late."

* * *

"If you were dying and you knew it-"

"-and your only son tried to make contact-"

"-you'd do whatever to find him," Danny nodded.

"So Aidan hires a P.I. to find him," Rusty said, fudgsicle in hand, "and the P.I.-"

"-tracks down possible Henrys-"

"-eliminates them one by one-"

"-reporting back to Aidan regularly."

Rusty nodded. He could see it. He let out a sigh. "And he doesn't find him."

There was silence and Rusty looked over to see a distant look in Danny's eyes.

"What if he did?"

Rusty frowned. "Henry didn't hear from him again."

"Doesn't mean Aidan didn't send letters."

"And Henry never gets them?"

"And Henry never gets them."

Rusty was thinking it through. "Maybe the P.I. hadn't got Henry's address…"

"…but he told Aidan Henry was at this university-"

"-and Aidan can't wait for further details-"

"-because he knows the clock is ticking-"

"-so what would you do, if you were Aidan?" Danny paused and the thought hit them at the same time. "You'd-"

"-write to Henry care of the faculty," Rusty finished triumphantly.

* * *

Jonah Davies had had a morning of it. There were times when being faculty secretary really deserved a higher stipend.

That nice young man hadn't been a problem. He'd asked for a prospectus and he'd stood quietly at the side of the desk, reading it.

But then those two students had come along and they were _already_ arguing as they walked down the corridor. By the time they'd reached Jonah, the volume was such that others were turning their heads and with a sinking feeling, Jonah realised that they were bringing the argument to him to resolve.

Understanding what the issue was between the two squabblers was tricky. Every time Jonah tried to ask a question, one or the other went off on a tangent – hurling a personal insult as they did so - and getting them back on track made his head hurt.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the sound of a small explosion and Jonah looked up to see smoke coming out of the vending machine.

"Good Heavens!" he muttered and rushed from behind the desk.

"Don't worry," said one of the arguing men.

"We got it," said the other, brandishing a fire extinguisher with exuberance that Jonah found more worrying than the smoke.

Whatever the cause of the explosion, it was a false alarm. The smoke dissipated and Jonah turned to find that the argument had also disappeared: the two students had obviously made up and vanished. When he got back to the desk, the nice young man had gone also.

Jonah ran a hand over his brow, took a deep breath and hoped for a less exciting afternoon.

* * *

"Come on, Linus," Basher said impatiently. "Hand it over, mate."

"_Such _a drama queen," Turk told him, leaning up against the wall, arms folded.

"You'd know," Virgil nodded.

"Shut up!"

"Witty."

Turk opened his mouth but saw Saul's face. Rusty smiled as he saw him close his mouth again. Damn but that man was good: he'd still got it and Rusty doubted he was ever going to lose it.

Linus pulled the long, thick envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it over to Danny. Rusty's eyes met Danny's.

_Bingo._

Danny cracked open the seal and pulled out the contents: a letter, a document and a key. He handed the document to Rusty who scanned its contents, acutely aware that the others were watching him.

"It's a new will," he announced. "Leaving everything to Henry including the contents of a safety deposit box at the First Western Bank."

"That's the key?" Livingston pointed at the object in Danny's hand.

"Yep."

"Then we found it," Linus beamed. "We did it."

Rusty caught sight of the smiles on the Malloys' faces and the grin on Frank's and then looked at Danny, still reading the letter. He caught Saul's eye and Saul gave the most imperceptible of nods. Yeah.

Danny looked over and there was apology in his eyes. Rusty just shook his head with a smile.

"Change of plan, guys," Danny announced.

* * *

There had been muttering. Of course, there had been muttering. They'd got into this for a Stradivarius violin. But Danny had silently let them all read the letter and there had been no more muttering. There'd been some heavy nose-blowing and eyes were gleaming suspiciously brightly.

And now…

"You were right, Iain." Henry's eyes were full of excitement as he walked into the staff-room. "I don't know how you worked it out but you were right."

The envelope was in his hands.

"You haven't opened it."

"No." Henry flashed him a quick smile. "Guess there's no time like the present."


	25. Sense

Sense by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create anything Oceany.

* * *

Danny came to with a start. He must have dozed off in the comfortable easy chair. He yawned and stretched and looked across the apartment where Rusty had his back to him, wrapped in deadly concentration as he sat at the table. Danny knew better than to interrupt. He could see the look of exasperated affection - or possibly affectionate exasperation - and the demand that this had really better be worth it.

Instead, Danny got to his feet and strolled over to the wall which was covered in scribbled notes dotted round photos of four men like a crime board in a police investigation. A dark-haired man wearing Ray-bans and dressed like a successful Wall Street banker. Marcus Chapman. The name crystallised in Danny's head. Marcus Chapman, the mark. Marcus, who had sharp dealings and made ruthless profit and invested it in sapphires, rubies and diamonds.

The other men… Danny didn't know their names but they had the thuggish look of men employed to protect Marcus and his wealth with eagerness and expertise. Danny closed his eyes. _A blur of fists and vicious and kicks and razor blades and blood and pain. _He could imagine. He knew how it went.

Rusty's phone rang, breaking into his thoughts. He turned his head to see Rusty answer it.

"Yeah. Yeah. 3 o'clock? Thanks, Nielsen."

Nielsen. Supplier of information and a hundred different things of borderline legality that could be useful to conmen although the man himself was sly and mercenary as hell. He was never their first port of call, always their last resort and that was only because he'd never yet failed to deliver. And it sounded like Rusty had secured them an appointment. Good.

* * *

"Afternoon, Nielsen," Danny greeted him as they walked into Nielsen's parlour.

Nielsen ignored him and grinned at Rusty instead. Danny didn't like the grin. It meant Nielsen felt he had the upper hand when it came to negotiation: it meant it was going to cost them.

"Nielsen," Rusty acknowledged. "We doing business?"

By way of answer, Nielsen produced an envelope and held it out. Rusty's fingers closed round it but Nielsen didn't release it.

"We doing business, Mr Ryan?"

Rusty dug into his jacket and fetched out a bundle of money. Danny smiled to himself as Nielsen grasped it and Rusty held on tight. Impasse. And his money was on Rusty.

"Want a little something extra, Nielsen," Rusty said. "Hope you're going to oblige."

* * *

In the street outside, Rusty tore the envelope open as soon as he possibly could. Danny read its contents over his shoulder and let out a low whistle. Marcus's movements over the next few days, clients and private appointments and restaurant bookings. Like they'd reached into Marcus's electronic calendar. He still wasn't any easier to like but Nielsen had come through.

"Gotcha," Rusty said softly, looking at the paper in his hand.

"We've got our way in," Danny agreed.

They'd know exactly when Marcus was and wasn't home.

* * *

Back at the apartment and Rusty was back at the table while Danny was staring at the wall again. All the details. All the details that fell out of his plan. The plan was simple enough, daring enough. It would take one of them to work round the security at Marcus's home while the other would charm and dazzle Marcus, weaving distraction round him till he was dizzy.

"We could arm wrestle to decide who goes," he suggested lightly over his shoulder and the last time around he'd mentioned _"Rock-Paper-Scissors"_ and Rusty hadn't dignified the suggestion with an answer that time, either.

Really, either of them could do either role but going on the inside was that tiny bit more dangerous. That tiny bit more risky. No escape and certain punishment if caught. _A blur of fists and vicious and kicks…. _

Danny shivered. If he could choose, he'd put himself in the firing line. And he knew Rusty would do exactly the same.

* * *

Life was never fair in the ways that you wanted it to be. Danny sat in the easy chair and watched resignedly as Rusty dressed in loose-fitting workmen's overalls and pulled on his shoes.

Rusty glanced over at the faces of the four men as if he was committing them to his perfect memory.

"You see any of Marcus's men heading your way," Danny warned, "you abort. Because trust me, they look violent-"

"Bastards," Rusty said, investing the word with enough venom that Danny nodded, satisfied that Rusty was taking him seriously.

"Right. You set? Because I got a date with Marcus."

* * *

Ready to divert with cool and charm, Danny walked into the restaurant where Marcus was sat. But Marcus was on the phone and Marcus was getting to his feet and Marcus was looking straight at him with fury on his face.

Things had gone wrong.

* * *

Danny couldn't put his finger on the how but things had gone very wrong indeed. He and Rusty were stood in the study of Marcus's penthouse in front of Marcus and two of his men and they weren't looking at each other, they were focusing on Marcus.

"You're into what precisely?" Marcus wanted to know, pacing up and down in front of them. "Stealing? Or stupidity?"

Danny bit his lip. It _hadn't_ been a stupid plan. It _should_ have worked. He glanced at the two hired heavies. …_kicks and razor blades and blood and pain... _His eyes dropped to the wooden flooring of the study. There was a dark stain that might or might not have been blood.

Marcus was still talking and not expecting an answer. He was right in Rusty's face and the snarl was livid.

"You think my place isn't wired so that a mouse farts in the wrong room, I don't get to know about it? You cut the wrong wire and get caught and my men _know_ to get me back here. You are a clumsy amateur."

Rusty was neither of those things. Danny's hands curled into fists.

"Well?" Marcus demanded. "You got anything to say?"

Silence hung. Neither of them said a word. Then a door opened and the third heavy entered.

"All clear, Mr Chapman. Looks like it's just…"

The man waved a hand in his and Rusty's direction.

"Mr Chapman," Danny began because a greedy man could always be tempted and if it saved them from a hiding, then it was worth trying. "You've got to know-"

Brusquely, Marcus cut across his words. "No famous last remarks before my boys eviscerate you?"

"Mr Chapman," Danny began again and then Rusty interrupted.

"Is that what you said?" All soft steel.

Danny's head whipped round and he frowned at Rusty. Marcus was frowning at him too.

"What?"

Rusty's eyes were blue and unblinking. "Something wrong with your hearing?"

"_Rus!" _ Low and barely breathed.

"You cheeky fucker!" Marcus exclaimed, staring at Rusty as if unable to believe his ears. "I'm going to enjoy watching you be taken apart."

Rusty smiled brightly, recklessly. "You say that too?"

"Rusty, shut the fuck up," Danny hissed. Antagonising the bad guy was never a smart move and Danny just _knew_ it was about drawing attention away from him himself.

Marcus's mouth was tight. "You're the second little thieving fucker I've found in here recently. If I hadn't had to turn the car round that night and come back… Well, he wasn't clumsy, he was just unlucky but I'm going to deal with you the same way I dealt with him."

Danny's eyes dropped involuntarily to the dark stain on the floor. Not Rusty. God, not _Rusty_.

"Just the four of you, right?" Rusty checked.

Marcus was back off-stride. He gave an abrupt nod.

"Just the four of you," Rusty repeated with quiet intensity. "Ripping him apart."

_A blur of fists and vicious and kicks and razor blades and blood and pain… _

"Hitting and hurting and cutting and killing," Rusty went on relentlessly, passion and fury and grief building in his voice. "And you don't even know what you've done. You have no _clue_ what you've done."

"What _have_ I done?" Marcus sneered.

"Brought me here," Rusty told him with just a hint of triumph and there was that damn smile again and Danny wanted to scream at him to shut up; he wanted to wrap his arms round him and never let go; he wanted…he wanted...

Marcus frowned at Rusty and then his eyes sharpened and he turned urgently to his men.

"Did you search him?"

"Yeah, boss. No guns, no knives."

Marcus visibly relaxed and his attention was back on Rusty and Marcus was speaking but Danny didn't hear a word. Tears were running down his face as he looked at Rusty. At serenity. At determination. At love everlasting.

_Oh, Rus…_

Missing scenes trickled through his consciousness like raindrops on a window-pane.

… _Rusty, sitting at the table, preparing the sides of the shoes… _

…"_Want a little something extra, Nielsen…"_

…_Nielsen producing latent, powerful explosive and only a tiny amount of it needed to be struck together hard for devastating results…_

…_Rusty sitting at the table, painstakingly moulding the explosive to the scraped back leather…_

"Rusty…" He said it out loud without hope of being heard. He said it with every ounce of all they'd ever meant to one another and never truly voiced, offering it all up to the here, the now and the forever. "Rus…"

For a brief moment, Rusty turned his head in his direction and Danny wondered if he'd heard him. There was a deep, rich smile of absolute, unreserved devotion.

And then Rusty clicked his heels together.

* * *

A/N: expect the title gives away the inspiration. But also for those readers who interpreted "Yours" a little differently.


	26. Bittersweet

Bittersweet by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create either of them.

A/N: "Body and Soul" verse and set pretty much immediately after "Twenty-one" with Danny's present of a trip to Europe. And if anyone is unaware of "Body and Soul" verse, they really only need read the first chapter of that fic to understand Rusty's background.

* * *

_London, March 1984_

Their first trip overseas together and the smile was everywhere: in business class, flirting with the stewardesses; in the suite at the Grovesnor, ordering everything on the room service menu; in the late night conversations that they fell asleep halfway through and woke up in the morning to continue. Life was good.

They'd packed in a whole heap of sightseeing and it had been fun. An open-topped double-decker bus and even though it really wasn't warm enough to sit up top, that hadn't stopped them. As they disembarked at Covent Garden, Danny saw the happiness in Rusty and it warmed him in a way that made him forget about the March chill.

"Little afternoon tea?" Danny suggested, already knowing the answer, as they wandered past a café.

Rusty's eyes lit on the Italian meringues and the millefeuille on display and that was a decision made.

That had been a little over twenty minutes ago and now they were sat at the table in the window and Danny was trying to work out why the mood had changed.

It wasn't the cakes – they'd been delicious – and it wasn't the strawberry milkshake which, judging by the alacrity with which it had disappeared, had lived up to Rusty's expectations. It was neither of those and yet, as they sat and people-watched and the conversation danced with its usual random abandon, Danny felt Rusty gradually slipping away from him.

Something over Danny's right shoulder. Something outside in the street. The temptation to turn around and stare was overwhelming. Instead, Danny took a sip of tea and studied Rusty's face as he watched whatever it was that held his attention.

No personal fear. No fear for Danny either. So no one from Rusty's past that Danny didn't know about and not a mark come back to bite them. There was no speculation in there so it wasn't about opportunity. There wasn't even the disassociation that Danny had seen once or twice – and that was once or twice too many – when something unexpected had sent Rusty back into memories. No, this look…this look…

"Alright," Danny said finally. "Tell me."

Rusty's eyes flicked guiltily back to Danny. "It's-"

"Don't even bother," Danny warned him.

By way of answer, Rusty's gaze travelled unwillingly outside again and Danny turned in his seat to follow it.

The streets were tourist-filled and Danny didn't see him at first. And then among the many faces bustling past, he saw the one point of stillness. A young boy, mid-teens with a shock of purple hair, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, leaning up against the wall.

It didn't mean…just because…it didn't mean…

"You're sure?" he murmured in a low voice.

"Yeah." Rusty's answer came back, soft and certain.

Danny looked again. Looked at the way the boy held himself and the way his eyes moved, sizing up every lone male that walked by. And when he got the right signal… The stance changed. The boy's weight shifted. The head lifted. The lips parted.

Danny turned back round in his seat. Rusty was staring at Danny's tea-cup like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

"Hard to tell whether he's an independent operator or he's been sent out to find business. He's fishing," Rusty said tonelessly. "If he gets a bite, he'll take him back to wherever he works from. Somewhere close by. Clients can get nervous if they have to walk too far and then he's lost the custom."

"Rus-"

"And if you lose the custom," Rusty continued, "then what's the damn point?"

He raised his eyes to meet Danny's and Danny bit his lip. There was a long pause and then Rusty took a breath.

"Not how I worked," he said. "But there were plenty of boys who made their money that way."

Another glance out of the window and this time, Danny understood the look.

"He's probably got another couple of years," Rusty murmured and Danny doubted he even realised his fingers were twisting the ring that Saul and Annie had bought him. "Eventually, he'll get older and the competition'll be younger. Men who go looking on the streets like to buy boys. _Oh…_"

At the final involuntary breathed exclamation, Danny turned his head again and saw the boy leaving, customer in tow.

"Hey." Danny twisted back round, reached across the table and let his hand brush Rusty's. _"Hey."_

Rusty blinked heavily and then smiled at Danny and nodded, closing down the conversation with a brisk "I know. I know. I can't save them all. Hell, not all of them want to be saved." He waved in the direction of the waitress. "Check, please."

* * *

There'd been a moment in the café and then Danny had let it go and Rusty was so thankful about that. They'd wandered on through London and Rusty had made it his mission to recapture the happy. He pushed away the unhelpful feelings of helpless: he wasn't going to spoil this vacation.

Now it was later, back at the Grovesnor, and Rusty was climbing out of a bubble bath and towelling himself down. Danny had called through that he was going out for essentials. Rusty translated that as chocolate and a bottle of malt. Presumably the mini-bar hadn't been restocked since they'd depleted it the night before. Danny wasn't back yet though and Rusty frowned slightly and then shrugged to himself. Maybe essentials covered more than he'd originally thought. Maybe Danny had gone further afield. Maybe Danny had found some company. Maybe… Yeah, maybe. Towel wrapped round himself, he dropped down on the bed and hit the TV remote.

Two hours later and Danny still hadn't returned and the distraction of the TV wasn't working. Even if Danny had hooked up with someone, he'd have gotten a message to him to let him know. Rusty was dressed and pulling on his shoes, ready to grab the room keys and head out into the night to find Danny. Ridiculous to worry and impossible not to.

His hand was on the door handle when the door opened and Danny was there.

"What took you so long?" Rusty asked, ignoring how fast relief was making his heart beat. "Problem with the local language?"

Danny's eyes…Rusty felt the adrenaline wash over him all over again.

"What is it?"

By way of answer, Danny gave him a tired smile and handed over a bottle of malt before sinking down on to the couch. Rusty closed the door and wordlessly poured two glasses of whisky. He pushed one into Danny's hands and sat down beside him, waiting.

"His name is Mark Hansen. He comes from Cornwell."

"Cornwall," Rusty corrected automatically, his mind racing.

"Probably," Danny acknowledged. "He left home about eighteen months ago when his mother's new boyfriend moved in. Apparently they didn't get on."

"You went back and found him," Rusty said unnecessarily.

"I went back and found him," Danny agreed.

Rusty's head was filled with images of the search, of Danny walking the streets, being propositioned, exposing himself to… He felt his hands start to tremble and took a gulp of whisky.

"Convinced him to phone home. He spoke to his sister. Turned out the mother had kicked the boyfriend out two months after Mark disappeared. They've been looking for Mark ever since. I gave him the train fare back to Cornwall and took him to Paddington. The station, not the bear." Danny sipped the malt. "He was a nice kid."

Rusty stared at him and felt the emotion building inside him.

* * *

Danny let the malt run over his tongue and down his throat. Finding the boy had been…draining. Talking to him had been the easier part and putting him on the train home had felt like a triumph. Felt like he was making a difference. And now, looking at Rusty, he was ready to share the feelings of win except…except…his eyes widened as he saw the anger.

"Don't you _ever_ do something so fucking stupid again!" Rusty snapped, putting the glass down on the coffee table and standing up, starting to pace. "You have _any_ idea what could have happened?"

Danny put his own glass down and got to his feet, hands out in a calming gesture. "Rus, nothing _did_ happen. It's OK. I'm OK."

Rusty wasn't listening.

"He could have pulled a knife on you and yes, he's a boy but if he was high on drugs or drink, he'd have done damage. And if he'd had protection, then things could have got a whole lot more serious. You want to know what a mess your face could be right now?" He stopped, panting heavily, and glared at Danny. "You are an _idiot."_

"_Rus,_" Danny said again and the name was full of the sorry and the not sorry.

It was about all the other times when one or the other had taken what they considered to be an acceptable risk. About all the other futuretimes when they would do exactly the same thing.

"Rus..."

* * *

The fury ebbed away from Rusty.

_Danny…_

_I know. I know._

There was an affectionate smile in his direction.

"We can't save them all. But…"

But. Rusty felt all the impossible wrapped up in that word. It shouldn't have worked but no one had explained that to Danny.

"You're an idiot," Rusty whispered again with different emphasis.

Danny nodded.

"I'm an idiot with chocolate," he offered, producing a large bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk.

Rusty sighed.

_Accepted._

Not everyone could be saved. Not everyone wanted to be saved. But once in a while, the stars smiled.

* * *

Later and they'd ordered more room service and drunk more whisky and by the time they'd retired to their beds for the night, all that was left of the chocolate was foil and purple paper.

Danny had been the first to fall asleep and his dreams were full of half-formed images of Mark, touting for business, and that was good because he was looking for Mark, he wanted to find Mark so he could help Mark. If he could help Mark then somehow it would help Rusty. He'd be doing something that he hadn't been able to do when Rusty had been without choice. He just needed to find Mark. A shock of purple hair came into view and Danny grabbed the boy's arm and spun him round and found Rusty staring back at him, his eyes full of the desolate and the alone-

He sat up, gasping, and Rusty was out of his own double bed and sitting in the chair beside Danny's, watching him in the half-light.

"You had purple hair," Danny managed ridiculously, raising himself up on one elbow.

There was a flicker of a smile. "Doubt it was by choice."

Danny winced before he could help himself and Rusty's face tightened "You OK?"

"Yeah. Just dreams." Danny frowned. "And you're awake because?"

Rusty shrugged and Danny could see the way his shoulders were knotted up. "Didn't feel sleepy."

"And you thought watching me sleep would help? Other people count sheep, you know."

"I was just thinking. About what you did."

"The fucking stupid thing I did."

"To give it its full title," Rusty nodded. "And I was thinking that..."

He tailed off and Danny's eyes searched his. There was disbelief and amazement and not worthy and none of it was going to be voiced. The only reason Rusty had got this close to sharing was probably because of the time of night. And in all that, Danny had to make one thing perfectly clear.

"It matters to you, Rus, then it matters to me." Because they were equals. They always had been and they always would be. "But actually? This matters to me."

He saw Rusty's mouth open and close again and Rusty gave a quick nod and tension seemed to slip away from his body.

"Don't make a habit of it," Rusty said eventually. "Working without me, I mean."

"Promise."

Rusty yawned. "Move over."

Danny obliged.

Sleep, when it came again, was dreamless.


	27. Solitary

Solitary by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own.

A/N: Day 6 of the 2011 Advent Calendar

* * *

It was raining and grey when he went inside and he felt that was fitting. It matched the mood that had possessed him for the past eight months since Tess had left.

He'd thrown himself into job after job and each time he'd grown more and more sloppy. Self-destruction. That was the name for it. That was what he would have called it in another. That was what he called it in himself. His usual care had deserted him and he hadn't cared and he'd been caught.

* * *

It was warm and sunny in the exercise yard but he didn't feel the heat and he barely noticed the brightness. He'd found out where Tess had gone and whom she'd hooked up with and he hated the very idea. Tess at Terry Benedict's side; Tess in Terry Benedict's pay; Tess in Terry Benedict's bed.

Others pushed past him as he stood, leaned up against the wall, and he allowed them to do so. The surface he hid behind concealed the kaleidoscope of emotion and intelligence inside and he was never going to let that show. Any more than he was going to reveal the pain.

* * *

It was foggy outside when the newspaper unfolded itself at the tiny article on Benedict's latest project. Benedict was the focus of the photograph but _his_ focus was in the background. Reuben. Reuben looking less than happy about being squeezed out of the limelight. And he liked Reuben immensely so that made him less than happy himself. As if he needed a reason to dislike Benedict more.

He tore the clipping out and kept it. Because somewhere between now and his parole board in four months' time, he was going to come up with a plan that would devastate Benedict and revenge Reuben and damn it, win back Tess.

* * *

It was cold and bright when he walked out of the gates of the prison, plan firmly in his head. He could see the outline clearly. The details were a different matter. And to fill in the details there was one man he needed. A man he hadn't spoken to in a long while and hadn't seen for even longer. Not that any of that would matter. Much. Last time they'd met up, he hadn't taken the man's advice and it had been good advice. That hadn't been smart but he was willing to eat a little humble pie. He was willing to do most anything if it meant he could see his plan come to fruition.

He went looking for him in one of his usual haunts and was surprised not to see him. But Frank was there and that was always a sound lead.

* * *

It was warm and mild and he walked with confidence into the club. Private room at the back reserved for the stars, he'd been told. He saw him sitting at the bar: there was no mistaking the man. And judging by the slump of his shoulders, he was in the mood for a little excitement in his life.

He walked past him, close but not touching. And then he found his way through to the back room and with a smile and some charm he found his way into the poker game and he waited.

The other returned and he looked up into a face that was as surprised as it ever got before it nodded to itself and took a seat opposite. And when he saw his cards and heard the man talk the players into upping their bids, then he knew he was excused. He knew the other was on side. He knew the plan would work. And he smiled broadly.

* * *

He had been abroad and out of range when Tess had left. He'd come back a month later to the news about that and the news of what _he_ was doing in her absence. He was being stupid. That was what he was doing.

He'd gotten hold of him in a bar in the Bronx and he'd tried to talk sense into him but he could see his words were skimming off the top of the surface like a stone on a pond. The man was locked into a negative run of ever-decreasing returns, like using scratchcard winnings to buy more scratchcards, and it was not going to end well. And he wasn't listening. Because he didn't want to listen.

The arrest had been inevitable and the trial and the conviction and the sentence had landed like cards thrown up in the air. He'd shaken his head at the waste of it all and he'd taken himself off and away and done his best to forget about him for a while.

Isabel and Rome had been more than a distraction. It had felt like the real thing. It had felt like he imagined Tess felt. And it had been painful as anything to cut and run but he'd left himself little choice.

Back in the US of A, he'd taken himself off to Hollywood and charmed his way into setting up a hip little poker school. It was not the best use of his talents and it killed him just a little when he sat down with them each time. But the money was good and plentiful and he had every intention of spinning it out as long as he could. Unless he got a better offer.

The better offer was sitting at the table when he got back from the bar one night. The better offer was saying sorry and promising so much more. Because there was only one reason the better offer would be sitting there and already he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in anticipation.


	28. Awkward

Awkward by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own, did not create.

A/N: Day 15 of the 2011 Advent Calendar

A/N: After the horror, the drama and the dreadful puns, two unrelated pieces of sillyfic written an eon ago.

* * *

**Truth**

Rusty had got home to find Isabel waiting in the bedroom with two glasses of whisky poured. She handed him one which he drank down eagerly and then dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of him.

"Thought I'd bring my work home with me," she said seductively as she fastened them into place around the headboard.

"Now that's a thought to be encouraged."

She laughed and sat back, her eyes changing.

"What?"

"It's time for us to have a little chat."

Ah. This was the equivalent of the Tess inquisition that Danny had had to submit to. Rusty was mildly amused that Isabel had felt the need to make sure he wasn't going to run away while being questioned. He stretched himself out on the bed and prepared himself to lie and lie well.

"Are you happy to answer any question of mine?"

"Not really." _Wait __a __minute. __Where __had __that __come __from?_

"Are you thinking of lying to me?"

"Yes." _Whoa, __whoa, __whoa!_

He looked at her. "What…?"

"Sodium pentathol in the whisky. Very heavy dosage. I brought that bit of my work home with me too."

_Oh, crap._

"So. I want to ask you about people you've slept with. Let's start with Danny."

"Yes."

"In the past?"

"Yes."

"Now?" Her eyes were dangerous.

"Yes." _Goddamn__it._

"In the future?"

"Probably."

"I see. Any other members of your little crew?"

He clamped his lips shut but she read the answer in his eyes.

"Just name names, shall I? Eugene?"

"Uh-huh."

"And how was he?"

"Fiery. Explosive."

"Livingston? What was the possible temptation there?"

"Videotapes."

"Frank C?"

"Handcream."

"The Malloys?"

"Twins," Rusty said as if that explained everything.

"Yen?"

"Contortionist."

"Linus?"

"No."

"No?"

Rusty shrugged. "No."

"I don't want to ask about Saul and Reuben, do I?"

"No.

"No, what?" she asked suspiciously.

He sighed. "No, you really don't want to ask."

"Have you slept with anyone else that I know?"

Rusty sighed again. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**And a DannyandRusty conversation piece set t****he morning after the night before...**

It was morning.

"This wasn't...well, it _wasn__'__t._"

"It was different…"

"It was a bad idea."

A sigh. "Yes."

Accusing. "You wouldn't stop laughing."

"Your face…" Another chuckle. "You have a weird sex face."

"Thanks. Does wonders for my self-esteem."

"Sorry." A pause. "But it's true."

"Well, _you_ are bony."

A look. "Bony…?"

A shrug. "You know. For cuddling."

"Bony…? I've not had any complaints."

"Sorry to rain on your parade. And we're not mentioning the elbow."

"Oh. Yeah. I _am_ sorry about that. I'm just…ticklish…there."

"I know that now."

Joint sigh.

"The oral was good..."

"- -"

"What?"

"Did you forget? You lost it in the middle."

"Yeah. Sorry." Guilty. "I was thinking about your sex face… Anyway, you can talk."

"What?"

"I'm giving you my best moves."

"And?"

"- -"

"What?" Genuine.

"You fell asleep!" Indignant.

"I _did?_"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh." Guilty. "Sorry."

Silence.

"This was a mistake."

"Oh, I think we decided that last night."

"And we're not talking about it-"

"-to anyone."

"Right."

Silence.

"You want to grab some breakfast?"

"You want to hear my idea for our next job?"

"Let's eat and talk."

"Reverse that."

"You reverse that. I know my priorities."


	29. Ties That Bind

Ties That Bind by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own any Ocean character.

A/N: these are all 100 word drabbley pieces set just before O13.

A/N: for otherhawk. For more reasons than I can fit in to a hundred words. J

* * *

Dark thoughts flooded through Reuben. He couldn't believe what Willie Bank had just done. The chutzpah of the man. The bastard. The utter, utter bastard. Like Terry Benedict torpedoing the casino he loved. _Worse_ than Terry Benedict. Using him to front the planning and applications and then pulling the dream out from under his feet.

He was an old fool to allow himself to be conned like that. Danny was right. He should've listened to Danny. He stared at Bank and his henchman walking away and then the feelings of fury burst in his chest, overwhelming him and darkness descended.

* * *

Mr Tishkoff was late back from the meeting with Mr Bank. Dominic cleaned down the side in the kitchen again and did his best not to look at the clock on the wall.

There were any number of reasons Mr Tishkoff was yet to return. Perhaps Mr Bank and he had gone for a drink to toast the deal. Mr Tishkoff had been so excited about the new venture. All fire and drive like the old days-

The phone rang and Dominic answered. "Mr Tishkoff's residence… Wh-what…?" He gripped the receiver, swallowing hard. "Mr Reuben's-? Yes. I'll come at once."

* * *

Hospitals smelt of antiseptic. Dominic didn't want to think about the layers of pain and disease and death buried under the disinfectant.

The nurse led him down everlasting corridors and he heard his footsteps echoing as loudly as his heart was thumping in his chest. Mr Reuben had to be alright. He _had_ to be.

They walked into a little side room and Dominic stopped dead. Mr Reuben was lying there… So pale. So frail. Like the life had been sucked right out of him.

"He's stable," the nurse said and Dominic nodded absentmindedly.

He needed to make some calls.

* * *

_I don't want you to go._

Oh, Tess wasn't saying any of the words out loud but then she didn't have to. Anxiety rippled through her, wrapped around thoughts of _police_ and _prison_ on the one hand and _pain_ and _death_ on the other. Nothing he could say would reassure and besides, he wouldn't offer what he couldn't guarantee.

Thing was, this wasn't just another job. This was personal. This was Reuben.

"I could come-"

_"No."_ He was selfish and wanted her safe. "It's not your fight."

Holding her tightly, he whispered into her hair. "I'll call you every day."

* * *

Isabel stretched out on the bed as she watched him pack. He was going away and she didn't like it but she understood.

"Silver tie," she suggested as he deliberated between two.

He turned his head and smiled over his shoulder.

"Silver," he nodded and then his face grew serious.

"S'OK," she said at once. "It's Reuben. Take as long as you want."

The serious melted away and he crossed to the bed, leaned over her and kissed her.

Isabel smiled up at him. "Take as long as you want." A different emphasis.

He kissed her again. "I intend to."

* * *

"Have you got your pills?" Marian asked for the fifth time.

"Will you quit your fussing, woman?" Saul grumbled. "I'm going to Vegas not Antarctica."

"I know, I know," Marian nodded. "And you will be careful, won't you?"

Saul sighed theatrically. "I don't know how not to be."

Marian made a little snorting noise of disagreement.

"Hey." Saul reached out and caught her hand. "I can always stay-"

"Oh, no, you don't, Saul Bloom. Not after the job in Europe. You go right now to your friends and help Reuben."

Saul smiled tenderly. "Thank you, Marian. You're a wonderful woman."

* * *

Sarah was pouting prettily on the doorstep and Virgil was staring at her with those googoo eyes that still made Turk want to puke. He leant on the horn impatiently and his brother waved an offhand hand in his direction. Yeah, yeah. True love and all. Turk counted to ten and then honked him again.

Virgil's shoulders sagged. Looked like he'd got his attention. Virgil kissed his wife and headed over to the truck, climbing into the front seat.

"_Fi_nally." Turk blew a string of little kisses at him.

"Suck it up, jealous guy."

They both waved goodbye to Sarah.

* * *

"Hi! How are- Oh, God… Is he-? Right… I'll leave straightaway."

Linus grabbed his holdall and started shovelling neat little piles of clothes into the bag. Reuben in hospital. Reuben near death. His stomach turned over. No one he knew had actually _died_. Well, Mrs Travis, the school librarian, but that was _way_ after he'd graduated.

"Linus?" His dad stood in the doorway.

"Danny phoned. I'm going to Vegas. Reuben's ill." Succinct. Professional. Grown-up.

"I know. Saul called me."

Huh. He should have guessed.

"Just… Linus, keep me in the loop, will you?"

Dad sounded…

"Sure," he replied softly. "Sure."

* * *

Yen sat in the taxi and scowled at Las Vegas. In American cities, the cars were noisy, plentiful and got in the way like his friend Lu Ying's brood of unruly children back in Shanghai. No wonder everyone arrived at the places they wanted to get to in such a bad mood.

"Get the fuck on," he muttered at the gods of the traffic. Reuben was waiting.

"Hey, buddy," the taxi driver said reprovingly. "Nothing I can do I'm not doing."

Yen ignored him and shot an imperious glare at the vehicles around him. Miraculously, they started to shift. Good.

* * *

He'd been travelling for what seemed like forever and then Frank walked out to the airport taxi ranks and saw Livingston and Basher waiting in the queue. His face relaxed into a smile and the muscles actually hurt. Guess he hadn't been doing much smiling for the past several hours.

"Guys." He walked up to them and exchanged handshakes. "How's he doing? What have you heard?"

"Danny says he's stable." Basher gave an uncertain shrug. "Whatever that means."

"Stable sounds good though, doesn't it?" Livingston said with hope in his voice.

Ye-ah… _'Out of danger'_ sounded so much better though.

* * *

Dominic stared at the still body that seemed to be barely breathing. He didn't think he had ever felt quite so angry with anyone in his whole life. Mr Willie Bank had done this. He'd had a phone call from Simon who worked for Mr Cavendish who owned the Kubla Khan and he'd heard the whole story. Mr Bank was boasting about town of his brilliant commercial acumen. Mr Bank was beneath contempt.

Dominic looked up as the door opened and breathed a sigh of relief. Here was Mr Danny and Mr Rusty and the others to make this right.


	30. Bobby Caldwell's Kid

Bobby Caldwell's Kid by InSilva

Disclaimer: own no Ocean's character.

A/N: *points to date* Of course I'm writing. ;) Hope you like.

* * *

The thing about being the only son of two well-respected, well-connected criminals was that it came with a whole weight of expectation. Linus had got used to the look of almost-awe in people's eyes when they realised his pedigree. Must be what being the child of two famous movie-stars was like. The anticipation that you were going to carry on in the family tradition.

Not that Mom and Dad had once attempted to push him into a life ever so slightly out of step with society's mores. They had had discussions with him over career choices and they had painted different options – the full tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor spectrum – complete with leaflets. He'd read them dutifully but he already knew what he wanted to do. He'd seen his parents' faces light up with the telling of tales old and new, the different cons, the different jobs, the sense of delivering your own justice in this world. He was never going to be Batman but he liked the idea just as Mom and Dad did of making a difference. And earning money for being brilliant…well, what made that any different than any other career? Plus, no taxes.

There had been pride in his father's eyes when he'd announced his decision. His mom had been more about resignation tinged with worry. Linus understood that too. After all, once you stepped outside of the rulebook, you were putting yourself in a dangerous place. Retribution and violence lurked in the background in a way that tinkers, tailors, soldiers and sailors were unlikely ever to find out about.

So now, Linus had his parents' expectation to live up to also. Especially Dad who was skilful and focused and always had the answer (just like with Math homework). Seemed like Dad wanted him to fly before he could walk. Linus found himself drilled in pickpocketing, safe-breaking, sleight of hand and a hundred other useful things a budding con artist should know. He knew it was a good day when his Dad gave him a smile and a nod and a terse "You've got it" before they moved on to the next part of the syllabus.

And even more than anyone else's hopes, there was the need to impress that Linus put on himself. He didn't want to let his Mom and his Dad down and he wanted to stand in his own right. Aim for the stars. Which was why he was frustrated by his father's insistence that he carry on working the L-trains, relieving rich stockbrokers of their wallets. He'd been doing this for six months and he wanted something more challenging.

He didn't say anything but maybe Mom had noticed and had had a word because Dad took him to one side.

"Observation and focus, Linus," Dad said. "Sharpen your skills and work on your timing. Plenty of time to tackle the big jobs. This is bread and butter and it's crucial."

"But, Dad, I know this. I really do. I'm ready for something bigger."

Dad just looked at him. "Well, if you're ready, where are you going to start?"

That made him stop and think. Hesitantly he said, "If you could just mention my name to-"

At once he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Dad's face closed up immediately.

"You need to make your own way, Linus-"

"Of course, Dad. I didn't mean-"

"You can't rely on me and your mom to help-"

"I _know_, Dad, I wouldn't-I didn't mean...I guess I don't know where-"

"I didn't mean we wouldn't help," Dad said unexpectedly. "If you need help."

Linus stared at him and Dad cleared his throat.

"You call us any time you need to, you understand?"

The intensity in Dad's expression was almost frightening. Linus nodded and Dad's face softened and then his manner grew stiff again.

"Keep up the work on the L-trains, Linus," he said gruffly. "Let's see what comes up."

* * *

That had been a few weeks back and that meant today was like any other day. Watching the crowd, picking his mark, getting close and making his move, fingers closing round the leather wallet…he hadn't been kidding – he could do this with his eyes shut. The guy wouldn't even realise he'd been robbed until he went to pay for his Starbucks double espresso.

Linus sighed to himself as he stepped off the train at Library State-Van Buren, other passengers brushing past him. He didn't know how much longer he needed to prove to his father that he had this nailed. Why couldn't Dad just give him a chance to show what he was capable of? Why did all his arguments sound so much better in his head than spoken out loud? Why…?

His thoughts came grinding to a halt as he reached into his pocket for the wallet and came up with a calling card.

"_Nice pull!"_ he read and the name of an Irish pub.

Linus flipped it over to see who had left the invitation. _"Daniel Ocean". _Huh.

* * *

Anger sustained him for the journey from the station to the pub. This was _his_ lift. _His _prize. He wasn't going to be screwed around by some…some…

He spotted the wallet the second he walked through the door. It was sat on a table and guarding it was a dark-haired, middle-aged man. Linus sized up the man's clothes – expensive – and his general attitude – confidence personified. He already found Daniel Ocean slightly intimidating.

Turned out, after he'd grudgingly sat down, that Daniel Ocean knew his name. Knew Bobby Caldwell too. _ Didn't_ know they were related and after what his Dad had said, that was to be expected. Still. Dad had recommended him and that gave him a warm feeling inside that he rightly identified as pride. Recommended him to this Daniel Ocean and there was a job on offer that was his _because _his father had recommended him. The pride melted a little into anxiety not to screw this up.

Still. A job. Linus could feel the excitement building inside him so badly he could taste it. Somehow he managed not to say anything stupid and at one point, he even thought this Daniel "Super-cool" Ocean seemed impressed with him. That had to be good, right?

* * *

Back home, he'd waited till they were all sat around the dining-table before he casually mentioned that he'd met Daniel Ocean – and thank you, Dad, for putting in a good word – and that there was a job in Vegas that he was going to fly out for at the weekend.

They'd both laughed. Of course they'd laughed. And that was when Linus learned that Danny of DannyandRusty fame had a first name in full and a surname. Somehow that hadn't come up in conversation before.

"You'll do fine," Mom told him. "Danny and Rusty'll look after you."

DannyandRusty. Oh, God. Linus's mouth was drier than the sand in the Nevada desert.

"Of course, he'll do fine," Dad said then added, "Go and learn from the best, Linus."

He thought he'd already been doing that. He swallowed and gave them both a watery smile. Even more pressure to deliver.

* * *

The poolside party at Reuben's wasn't quite what Linus had been expecting. He wasn't certain how a briefing for a serious heist should go but it didn't seem right that it was full of shrimp cocktail and Martinis. This was far too laidback. He'd expected flipcharts and diagrams and mock-ups and men oozing expertise not the group of co-workers surrounding him. He had shared the cab with the bickering brothers and the old guy who looked well past his sell by date and the nervous, sweating man and the Chinese fellow who was currently cross-legged on the diving board and building a house of cards… Linus couldn't see how any of them were going to be up to any kind of job.

The longer he sat there, the more uneasy he became. Maybe he'd got this wrong. Maybe Dad was right and he needed more practice. But Dad had suggested him, hadn't he? Linus chewed his gum and tried to work out whether to extricate himself from this. Thing was, what did you say? "I'm really sorry but something's come up"? Maybe he should fake an illness. Maybe he should fake a phone call. Maybe-

Danny appeared then, asking them to join him for a show and tell. And if you didn't want to, then no hard feelings. Perfect. Linus's shoulders sagged with relief. He sat completely still as the others trooped without hesitation into the house and then wondered if he ought to join them. After all, he hadn't _quite_ made up his-

"You Bobby Caldwell's kid?"

He looked up to see Reuben standing over him.

* * *

Reuben had shooed him into the house and Linus had obeyed, partly wondering if Reuben would phone his dad. Then Danny and Rusty started talking and the magic flowed right out into the room, snaring each and every one of them and all thoughts of walking away evaporated. Linus was hooked. This was…this was _huge._

He lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling. Yes. He was Bobby Caldwell's kid. He smiled to himself. And maybe, at some point, Dad would be Linus Caldwell's father.


	31. The Emperor's New Clothes

The Emperor's New Clothes by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they aren't mine. Just borrowing them from the great character library in the sky.

A/N: this was fic of win for otherhawk. And, Maia, if you're reading, you'll remember the reference from "Phil's Wife". :)

* * *

"You're sure this is the only way in?"

"I'm sure this is the only way in that avoids us being caught and questioned. And you've heard the rumours."

"Yeah. Lobsters."

"And sharks. Were you missing the sharks? You're focusing on the lobsters?"

"Alright, alright. Remind me again why we're robbing a men only nightclub that's built like Alcatraz?"

"It was your idea."

"That mean it's my-"

"Wasn't blaming you, just stating facts."

"Hmm. Alright then. Hold my hand and try not to let yourself get picked up."

"Not like I set out to, it's just-."

"-an occupational hazard." Resigned. "Yeah."

* * *

"When were you going to tell me it's fancy dress party night?"

"Is it my-?"

"Wasn't blaming you, just throwing a rhetorical question out there."

"Well, it gave us a reason to excuse ourselves up here, didn't it?"

"You think I'm going to be able to make a costume out of black plastic bags and cleaning materials?"

"That another rhetorical?"

"C'mon, let's get to the manager's office."

* * *

"Here. Hold Wilson's phone while I close the safe."

"All this for a-"

"Diamond encrusted quarter of a million dollar phone. Yeah."

"Right. Let's-"

"Ssh."

"What are you-?"

"Stay down."

"Stay...?"

"_Down. _ Hello, gentlemen."

_"What are you doing in here?"_

"Oh...well, unfortunately, I arrived without a costume."

_"Yeah, it's OK, we sent them up here to find...hey...weren't you supposed to be in the cleaning closet?"_

"I couldn't find anything there."

_"And where did your friend get...what are you..."_

"I couldn't find anything in here either."

_"He's taking his-"_

_"-I _know _he's taking his-_!"

"So I thought...why don't I go as the Emperor's New Clothes?"

_"Huh..."_

_"Meep."_

"Shall we go back down and join the party, gentlemen?"

* * *

"Run."

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"Run faster. The mob of wet and angry henchmen are still chasing us."

"You're still mad at me. Not my fault if I'm a quick thinker. All this time spent with you must have rubbed off."

"It was a ridiculous idea."

"It worked."

"Ridiculous beyond words."

"And yet you're still speaking."

"I'm not speaking to you."

"In here. We can catch our breath."

"And you can get dressed."

"Don't be mad at me."

"Rus, I had to set off the sprinklers to get them off you. There was a moment when I couldn't even _see_ you."

"Hey, hey. S'OK. I'm OK. OK?"

_OK._

_"_Good. Henchmen still in pursuit?"

"Let me...nah. We're good. You can put some clothes on."

"You've got to admit it's a great distraction."

"I'm checking you over for _bruises._"

"Sure."

"And for the record, between you and Toodles, I'm going with the Chihuahua every time."

"Now, that's a line I never expected to hear."


End file.
